I will be a bird, I will be a monster, sleeping on a perch, underneath an overpass. Passers-by will pour their eyes out, pull at my heart and beg me to move, but I'll do what I'm told and you can not pass through. I will be a train, you will be a stow-away, creeping down below my steaming locomotive. And while we pour through a series of tunnels I'll pour my boiling water and scald raw every inch of your skin. And what a spectacle to see you all unraveled and exposed. Well you got too close, those hangers-on were bound to burn. It was only your turn I warned you, I said "who goes there?"