Lyrics & Music: Maureen S. O'Brien
Insp: _The Armageddon Blues_, Daniel K. Moran
I don't know where she came from, or where she got her name --
In records over fifty years, and she still looks the same.
We joke that she's not human -- we joke that she's not tame --
She doesn't care what's in our minds. It's souls she claims.
Opal eyes, opal eyes, Hunter of the ken Selvren --
Jalian of the Fires, oh, as ageless as the flames.
Her hair is white, her knife is bright, her steady eyes keep saying,
"This world's my hunting ground and not my home,
And I've done things much better left alone."
She stalks through city shadows, takes deserts at a run.
Her aim is swift and deadly with arrow, knife or gun.
She rarely takes the time to grieve for all the things she's done,
But once she said she killed her world to save this one.
And yes, she fell in love once -- you hadn't heard? It's so.
A blind man up in Canada -- his name was Georges Mordreaux.
She doesn't talk about him much, but when the west winds blow,
She'll call his name, and listen. Her opal eyes glow.
I don't know where she came from -- not sure I want to know.
Says Armageddon's coming -- just two more years to go.
She likes to walk down highways. She sings a hunting song.
If her plan doesn't work, no one alive will live too long.
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