II. Confrontation
The silence of night is broken by sirens, a shrill and piercing sound
Three police cars pull up in a back alley, in the slums of the town
A pair of officers step out, both overcome by grueling apprehension
Because their feared commander is with them on this routine mission
He hasn’t laughed in almost a decade, hasn’t even cracked a smile
All day and all night he stays in his office, sorting through files
But today something changed in him, and for the first time in years
He insisted on going out in the field, despite his paranoia and fears
All for a seemingly useless lead, on a string of thefts forgotten long ago
Now the officers fear that there is danger, something they don’t know
Both are thinking of their families, their children and their friends
Praying to God that they will see them, even if only one time again
But they also push these thoughts away, knowing it’s a crazy notion
Nothing’s gone wrong, the commander’s only showing his devotion
But all these worries are forgotten, professional training takes control
When in the nearby shadows they see a dead body, slumped in a hole
And even worse is the silhouette behind it, a man with a gleaming gun
He points at them, gesturing for surrender, telling them not to run
Now Commander Perry walks out of his car, and reaches for his boot
Walking towards the killer, he pulls out a gun, and raises it to shoot
But the bandit is even faster, he buries a bullet in the commander’s head
Perry stumbles, and slowly falls, he is doomed… but not yet dead

III. Revenge
As the commander’s pain begins to dull, and blackness sinks into place
Perry looks again at the dead body, and this time sees his brother’s face
And even though his thoughts are jumbled, and his vision can’t be trusted
He knows that the man before him is the killer he has sworn to bring to justice
With all his remaining strength he squeezes on the trigger of his pointed gun
Hoping that, even though his life has been lost, his revenge may still be won
And despite the drips of blood, the drips of sweat, that mingle on his face
Something greater comes from the dying man, just a subtle touch…. of grace
The bullet soars, on the wings of a butterfly, towards its unsuspecting target
Time seems to slow, but the killer knows there is nothing he can do to stop it
And as the fallen commander sees his hated enemy drop dead to the floor
A smile forms on his face, and his heart beats no more.