When the Hunted Hunts

Waiting on the rooftops,
The wind is blowing east,
I sit in silence, poised;
A hunting, modern-day beast

I unzip my bag of tricks,
Nothing could change my mind,
As I check breech, chamber, bolt,
And see whom my scope can find.

And there you are, laughing,
As if no cares in the world;
I acquire range, lock and load,
My story's already unfurled.

Safety's off,
Suppressor's on,
And with a whisper
Your life has gone.