‘Mr Scott, I now blindfold you
I’ll now black out all around
You can hear the footsteps now,
So much more aloud.
Oh the sweat drips from your forehead
And those sweet tears scar your face
But who can hear you in here
Who’s chartered this here place?
Oh, kneel Mr Scott and quiet please, I pray
Can you feel this, my gun?’
Barrel beckons bullet
‘And to me this is just fun.
What can you see, now I mean
in those black cotton folds,
Those visions in your mind,
Mental treasure chests of gold.
No, I thought not, oh weep you fool, weep
But listen when I say
This be your first, this be your last
But you’ll always hear
this gun blast.’