The year was nineteen eighty one,
I was out for a midnight stroll.
I often took walks on the beach,
Which helped calm the fire in my soul.

But this was Santa Monica,
Not really the safest place to walk.
I frequently carried my sword,
For villains, in the night, oft did stalk.

And this night was no exception,
I sensed the evil out on the prowl.
I heard the cry of its victim,
‘Neath a weather torn pier, dark and foul.

I crawled under the chain linked fence,
And crept quietly toward the sound.
I felt my rage begin to grow,
At the horrible sight that I found.

Four young men were taking their turns,
On a teenage girl they chose to rape.
I had no choice, I had to act,
I was her only hope of escape.

One of the men walked off alone,
Nature called and I followed behind.
My aim was true, my sword cut deep,
The purpose for which it was designed.

So I put on the man’s jacket,
Then headed back toward the brutal scene.
And they never saw it coming,
My sword was swift and its bite was clean.

I picked up the unconscious girl,
And carried her from beneath the pier.
I placed her by the esplanade,
I said someone will soon find you here.

But I could not stay by her side,
I was drenched in blood from head to toe.
So I watched until she was found,
Then I knew it was my time to go.

Now I still take walks on the beach,
My sword still ready for a fight.
Prepared to do what must be done,
Haunted by the memories of that night.

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