A man faces the dread of his execution. |
The eyes of the dead are dark, Their bodies bear death's mark. Passed into the hand of cold, A commodity bought and sold In life. A group of twelve priced mine- It wasn't worth a dime- Guilty was the word they said, Cast aside, I will be dead Tomorrow. I don't regret my act, Because the simple fact Is the life I wiped from earth, To me, was not worth A cent. And yet, something tugs my heart. Something with which I regret to part. Only when I can see death's sneer Do I begin to feel my fear To die. The gallows are to be my fate, On the morrow, which I await, The rope shall hang about my neck- Then the drop, to start my trek To death. Two ends await me there, watching as I sway in midair. One, my face growing slowly blue, the other, the better of the two, A snap. Ah! These first steps I dread, My heart as heavy as lead. I wish some guide to show Where I'm supposed to go At my end. But no guide is here To help me leave this life so dear; I am left to walk alone And so, I feel I must atone To You. I'm told that you're eternally great, And I hope it's not to late To open up a place For you to lie your grace In my heart. I ask you to take my dread So that I may lie upon this bed And sleep-without a care- And please, accept this prayer From me. Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep. And- if on the gallows I should wake, I pray the lord my neck to break, Amen. |