I am walking in the last rays of the setting sun.
Whistling a hangman’s tune with head held high swinging my gun.
I say this little boy is angry, I say this little boy is mad!
This little boy comes to destroy, stone-eyed, cold-faced in swathes of
vengeance clad.
And the black cock crows. And a dead wind blows.
In my wake are seven women who tried to steal my soul.
In my belly six wild wolves curse and howl from their foul hole.
I say no earthly will may stop me, I say no earthly will may try.
No earthly will may halt the spill of blood from wounds and tears from craving
eyes.
And the black cock crows. And a dead wind blows.
Below me burn the city lights in fires of pearls and jewels.
I’m climbling down the city walls, unseen, unfussed — the sentries must be
fools.
I say all pleasantries are over, I say all pleasantries are past.
My enemies, you pimps and thieves, prepare to meet your nemesis at last.
And the black cock crows. And the dead wind blows.