Walking heavy, who knows where he's been,
He looks so worn, who knows what he's seen.
Deep and intense, dressed in all black,
As he walks towards me, he never looks back.

The brightest eyes, but what do they see?
The sliest smile, directed at me.
His earthy scent washes over like a wave,
But a form of recognition, he never gave

On a mission, who knows where he's going.
Plan in place, he shows no sign of slowing.
His dark hair covers his head,
He's quick and mysterious, and painted in red.

Towering above me, I feel small an alone,
It’s late at night, and I'm far from home.
Chips off his shoulder, who knows where they fell;
What can I say, his name is Hell.