I fashioned this cruel distemper from accursed fleshy instruments and dark intentions I bit the hand that bled me and poisoned the well behind me it’s too late to throw a blanket on my grave I’m frozen root and thorn a few will sing my praises many more will mark my passing with revelry and scorn
I was the author of misfortune I was callous and unkind I was a drunkard and a lecher a bloody handed sinner who left no stone untroubled in the pursuit of a good time I’m a criminal by nature and now I have been caught so commend me to the cold dark earth without a second thought
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