Eiffel Eyes in the Night

Whoa. The iron spire cuts through the night. A silver blade

in the pale moonlight. He climbs so high, his shadow bends,

a predator where the city ends. Midnight in Paris, a whisper on the breeze.

Someone up high is looking at the trees. Shivers down spines, the shivers so

cold. A story of shadows bravely told. Eyes like fire, a twisted grin,

the hunt begins. Iron claws grip the night sky tight. He scans the

streets, no wrong feels right. There's a maniac on the loose

in Paris. He's up on the tower, his vision's careless. Scanning the streets