Sick and dying in my bed These ba*tards come to me Saying "Son, you'll live another day For this deal we'll offer thee." I listened with attention full To their deal for me For life, I'd have to sell my soul Bound to them I'd be "Well I am but of eighteen years Too old to mold and rot But I can't sell myself to you No sirs I'll surely not." Those ba*tards thought A moment hard And changed their tune for me Saying "Son, you'll live another day We've a better deal for thee Steal into o'er yondеrs wilds Into foreign towns Kill and bury Another man's child Quietly, without a sound." My bеating heart beat slower My body it grew gold In desperate voice I whispered "To this deed I am sold." So into towns I wandered My hand upon my knife Until I found A sleeping child And ended his poor life But in my haste I left behind A fatal clue for me The tides exposed A sandy hand For all the town to see Now here I wait For lead or rope For bloodying my knife I have no hope I know the cost The pain I caused, the strife So listen to those ba*tards not In any form or guise Their deals are for The scared and weak Fearing judgement when they die