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