The pink shadow is looming over your fate, so tremble, oh mortal; your time is short, and running out fast.

She sees what you dream up, and what despicable tales you weave; there are no excuses, when she is entering your room with vengeance on her mind.

Canon, is what the Pink shadow knows to be true, not what you choose to believe or dream up; whether you imagined it, or stole it from your next door neigh-bour.

No place on your Earth is safe, no guard can stop her; just as there is no way to predict when she is by your bedside, with the blade at the ready.

There can be no armour strong enough to save your sorry excuse for a life, or keep your head on your shoulders.