Fight.

Man if I had like a thousand eyes,
like a fly,
I'd try to spy on all sides at the same time.
I'd not be surprised,
and I'd lead a well-protected life.
Your very best disguise
would not/could not escape my thousand eyes,
and I'd fight you like Mike Tyson circa 1985.
I would not lie down, I'd fight,
and through God, by God, I'd survive.

(You son of the dark one,
you'd tempt us/me to swallow a gun,
metaphorically or literally, either one,
as long as a fighter fighting for the other side is done.)


So I strap on my armor,
request protection from my Father,
but if He decides to to provide,
I inform Jesus Christ that I'll
soon be happily standing in awe by His side.