Spirited Detective, finder of souls lost deep
place pen to paper and let the burning stokes seep
etch your place among the dead and dying
Let the ink become your words, your command
And let the paper become your action, your hands
Write their death, 'O prophet!


Become! Become,
  the finder of hunted men gone
  the hunter of warriors from depths so long
  the warrior and tip of the Angel's Sword
Let your pen become your weapon
Let your paper become your tactic
Let your wisdom be your shield
Oh, Seeker of Men, save the Angels
And never let your pen yield