[Intro: slow, eerie acoustic guitar, intricate fingering, single heavy drum beat like a heartbeat] [low, gritty male voice, exhausted storyteller] It was the mission down by Fizi... late November. Ten of us holding the courtyard. Five hundred of them in the trees. Barrels on the FALs were glowing red. We were out of belts for the thirty-cal... Just waiting for the end. And then... the jungle went dead quiet. [Verse 1: rhythmic and tense] They were coming in waves, chewing on that root, Thinking magic made them bulletproof, immune to the shoot. They had those blue stones glowing, making us feel dead, Like a heavy iron curtain coming down inside my head. I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer I didn't know, Waiting for the machetes, waiting for the blow. But the screaming just... stopped. [Pre-Chorus: building tension, creeping bassline] No thunder from the rifles, no roaring from the guns, Just a quiet little whisper under the bleeding sun. Like a needle through the fabric, just a hollow, deadly hiss, From the barrels of the phantoms, in a war that don't exist. [Chorus: haunting male harmony, dark folk style] Oh, there are mirrors in the treeline, shining in the dark. Tall and quiet shadows, leaving a silent mark. Skin like polished silver, standing in the rain. They don't wear no dog tags, they don't feel no pain. If you see the glass-eyed boys, boy, you better look away. They didn't come to save you. They just came to slay. [Verse 2: faster tempo, disbelief] I looked over the sandbags. The Simbas were frozen still. Dropping their blue stones, losing all their will. And walking through the smoke... were six tall men. Never seen faces like that, won't see 'em again. Cheekbones cut from marble, skin shining like oil, Walking right through the crossfire, boots hovering on the soil. They carried black rifles... looked like toys, but spit out death. No yelling, no commands. Didn't even draw a breath. [Pre-Chorus: building tension] They looked right through the magic, they broke the rebel line. Eyes like looking glasses... reflecting back the time. [Chorus: full heavy acoustic instrumentation] Oh, there are mirrors in the treeline, shining in the dark. Tall and quiet shadows, leaving a silent mark. Skin like polished silver, standing in the rain. They don't wear no dog tags, they don't feel no pain. If you see the glass-eyed boys, boy, you better look away. They didn't come to save you. They just came to slay. [Bridge: music drops almost to silence, only a ticking snare and dark ambient synth] [intimate, terrified whisper] The last Simba ran. The tall one turned to me. I looked into his eyes... and I didn't see myself. I saw an empty sky. Then they turned around... and melted into the leaves. [Guitar Solo: haunting, echoing slide guitar] [Outro: fading out, slow strum] Don't tell the Major... he'll say it was the gin. But there's something in the jungle, boys. Something that ain't kin.
