Three knives thrown
And all of them miss me
But I'm not so sure that was good aim.
His hand quavered just as he drew back

Five knives thrown
Two at each of my sides
And one barely scraping my ear
And the audience gasps as the blood
Trickles down the wooden target I'm chained to.

Seven knives thrown
Because we can't just stop now
They only love it more when they know
Of the danger.

Thirteen knives are thrown
And my heart's beating faster
My breathing is deep as his thoughts
He wants to, I know it, and he has what he needs
But is he a man
Or a coward?

Seventeen knives thrown
And a tear's in his eye
And his whispers are all I can't hear
Over the cheering crowd and blood
Rushing through my veins.

Nineteen knives thrown
And I'm sure
It just looked like bad aim.