He stands prepared in every way, to meet the ravening hordes
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A host of mighty weapons, but not of spears or swords
Just one alone we find him, Ďmidst teeming types unlike
Among successful giants, an insignificant tyke.
When they crowd around the stranger, he loiters by, aloof
The task they try is not his, he seeks a different truth
A destiny made grander, by value of the prize
His fate is plainly to be used, defender of their lives
In times of systematic peace, when those about him meet
He wanders by, impressing none, tuned to a different beat
But time will come, he feels down deep, his might severely tried
Will he stand fast, irresolute or will he run and hide?
He floats in mighty blood red streams, seeking out his goal
An alien contaminant, an artificial shoal
The currents now distorted, excitement starts to build
He knows he will be good at this, although heís never killed
The monsterís there, horrific sight, distended ugly growth
Attacking all, no quarter drawn, corrupt or kill or both!
A momentís hesitation, his armory to prepare
With mighty cry he jumps upon the dragon in his lair.
The dragon grins, satanic leer and wraps around him whole
He feels the pain of compromise, like daggers through his soul
But deep inside, (he knows his stuff) when virus tendrils near
A tiny little pack of death lays waiting, purpose clear
As evil fingers rip his skin, he feels his end is close
Deathís got him, but his riposte, a truly deadly dose
As he breaks down, will reach right out, from his dormant shell
To seize the deadly virus, and send it straight to Hell
So when you sneeze or blow your nose, the loathsome mess you see
Is not just snot or gorby scum, disgusting you and me
This bodily ejecta, unwanted I can tell
Consists of lots of corpses, including one T. Cell