Hello Darkstalkers, my old friends
I've come to talk of you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its dark seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision
That was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sounds of violence

As restless demons you walked alone
Narrow streets of city & stone
Beneath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my claws to the cold and damp
When my body was smacked
By the flash of a "soul" light
That split the night
And touched the sounds of violence

And in the angelic light I saw
Ten demonic people, maybe more
People talked of them without speaking
People heard of them without listening
People writing songs that Iwai rarely share...
And no one dare
Disturb the sounds of Violence.

"Fools," said I, "you do not know
Violence like a cancer grows."
"Hear my words that I might teach you,
or face my arms that I might beat you."
But my words like silent blood drops fell,
And echoed in the wells of Violence.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon cat goddess they praised.
But the bad sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said: "The words of the bad profits
Are written on the sales gross
And arcade tournament halls,
And whisper'd in the sounds of violence."