He'll do what must be done. |
Keep the fire burning straight on through the night stoke the embers high, son don't be afraid to sweat There's a dark place o'er yonder and through the black pines we will tread But your daddy walks beside you, you remember what I said Yes, daddy. At first light we'll go and I ain't a little boy no more, papa, I'll walk right beside you To that dark place o'er yonder, blacker than the soldier pines and mama's currant jam I know you walk beside me, I'm brave, papa. I am. You're a fine boy, son. A man could 'nary be so lucky, the finest son we made. Your mama...she'd be proud. She up in that dark place o'er yonder, some nights I see her through the trees. And I cry and shake and moan and quake, I go down unto my knees. Pray mercy, lord on high and heaven send me strength I loved her so. More now than 'er I ever will. So, son let's sleep tonight... and pray for a righteous kill. No man knows how silence is as alive as he, until it chokes him, blinds him, buries him—silence Is woe to hope, every beating heart beware Fear and fury pulsing in the stillness of the air, How the passing seconds blackly whisper as you stammer out a prayer The flint and tinder dry as stone, yet you cannot strike a spark and you'll fumble for it blindly as something gibbers in the dark |