The games we play, have played, will play
Are exercises, simulations
They are practice for that moment
Which appears as if a game
But whose intent and consequence
Will judge us so finally and without mercy

So I will allow your cat scratching, back stabbing
And when we cross swords it will be
With eyes cast to that unseen assassin
Who traces the shadows sensing weakness, surprise
And I will be ready

Agent Delicious x