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The Bandit

There is a bandit lurking in the shadow,
He stands there patiently waiting, waiting,
For he know some careless soul will be passing by.
His heart is hardened and his eyes like frozen steel
Are attuned to darkness; he has not long to wait
For that unwatching someone soon will venture by.
He has a vile intent and the evil he creates
Emits a callousness beyond imagination
Of the victim passing by.
A special breed of bandit, hell-bent to steal

Some ambulating soul, some unwary soul
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