His hands are shaky as he dials the number on the telephone
His breath quickens while he stands aloof in the crowd
He chuckles to himself for a second
When he notices the bulge raising in his jeans
His smile contrasts the anxiety welling up in his stomach
His face turns to a knowing scowl
The moment before he presses in the green dial button
An unattended suitcase under a public bench
They first feel the vibrations in their legs
Then the shock-wave reaches their heads
And by the time they know something's wrong
They're already more than dead
He is the fire, the cleansing flame
He is nullifier, the purging waves
He is the ash, building a tower into the sky
And he is the masses, under the rubble, buried alive
They first feel the vibrations in their legs
Then the shock-wave reaches their heads
And by the time they notice something wrong
They're already more than dead