In the darkness of the streets Lies a killer with an appetite to feast As he chooses from the weak Goes to add on more to his killing spree Getting closer, he awaits For his victim surely won't get away Shooting, stabbing, butcher All he knows now, death is his reality Savage murder is the game In his mind, it's all he knows how to play Stacking corpses of those he's slain They are trophies in his sick, twisted brain Doesn't see the individual Only sees you as the weak, timid prey If you see him, best to run There's no chance you'll ever get to outrun his gun There is no chance you'll ever get away The grim sleeper keeps you as his prey