I stand upon the wooden gallows
noose around my neck, soon dead.
I dove in deep; avoiding shallows,
and now I see I've made my bed.
Standing here do I regret,
the evil that I've said and done?
Only that which I've beget,
Standing there below; my son.
A highwayman, I robbed for him.
I murdered, stole and took with need.
And though my soul is stained with sin,
For him I did each evil deed.
And as they ask for final words,
I see his face, ashamed of me.
Though this may seem quite absurd,
it pleases me to see.
For every life I took away,
and every dime I stole,
I did it knowing that one day,
he'd see my action's toll.
For after my short drop to fate,
and while through hell I wade.
I know the life I did create,
Will see the price I paid.
He'll grow up strong, with me to hate,
my actions with he'll disagree.
Ner' a gun will be his mate.
My boy will live, but not like me.
So drop the trap and take my life,
for I am unafraid!
I fed my boy and fed my wife,
This is the bed I've made.
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