Assassin Songtext
von Dan Bull

Over oceans, civilisations behold
The UK taking control
A naval nation of old
Built on a foundation of coal
That was taken and sold
So they could pave it with gold
To make the altars that they failed to use to pray for the souls

Who excavated and rolled
Trains into stations to mould
The global stage where they were playing a role
For those who′d later withold
Them from the tale that was told
To fete the brave and the bold
So they could claim it was stole


Instead they lay in deprivation and cold
Poor sanitation and mold
Without a savior to follow
It's not like they can enrol
Rebel or make an assault
HALT, enter Evie Frye and Jacob
Revolt

I am a British assassin
Rather proficient in fashion
Look in the mirror, yeah, the image is dashing
I′m sending a Templar to hell
On every single ring of Big Ben's Bell

I am a British assassin
Me and my sister are cashing in
On the city's riches and it′s flipping cracking
I send a templar unto the grave
For every soot stained cobble with which London is paved

This is a major event
So you best pay Jacob attention
In in age of innovation, invention
Evie and me are the train and the engine
Slicing straight forward through the tension
With a hidden blade to the tendon
How clear can I state my intention?


Fed up of Gentry living rent free
While peasants pay an arm and a leg for entry
Don′t send for a detective
Let me make this Elementary:
I'm that assassin other chaps try and pretend to be
My enemy′s enemy's potentially a friend to me

From Ezio and Edward Kenway through to Henry Green
Killing is our business and in our business we′re immensely keen
Roughing up these gangs
Although there's nothing in my hands
But for a couple of brass knuckles
And a kukri that I swang′

From the stricken slums of the Southwark
To the suckers in the strand
Suddenly snuck into a cab
And then I'm just another chap
Strutting, striding over Whitechapel
Landing in Lambeth with ease
Bite the Apple of Eden
And plant the seeds in London's streets

Come and reap the fruits of our labour
And bite the hand that feeds
We′re the gang Anglia needs
The Assassin′s Creed

We study war to run like water through the ruddy order
Tend to every Templar starting with that bugger bloody Nora
I make her blighters face my blade and die
Veins are sliced
Baptised by the rain at night
They wish they were safe and dry
So crack open a case of wine
Grab your glass and raise it high
Take your time to say goodbye
Yours faithfully, Jacob Frye

I am a British assassin
Rather proficient in fashion
Look in the mirror, yeah, the image is dashing
I'm sending a Templar to hell
On every single ring of Big Ben′s Bell

I am a British assassin
Me and my sister are cashing in
On the city's riches and it′s flipping cracking
I send a Templar unto the grave
For every soot stained cobble with which London is paved

(There's little more gory a thing than
Living in Victorian England)