Charles Bukowski

Песня, Джонни Кэша. It all began when they took me from my home And put me on Death Row, a crime for which I am totally innocent, you know. I began to warm and chill To objects and their fields, A ragged cup, a twisted mop The face of Jesus in my soup Those sinister dinner deals The meal trolley’s wicked wheels A hooked bone rising from my food All things either good or ungood. And the mercy seat is waiting And I think my head is burning And in a way I’m yearning To be done with all this weighing of the truth. An eye for an eye And a tooth for a tooth And anyway I told the truth And I’m not afraid to die. I hear stories from the chamber Christ was born into a manger And like some ragged stranger He died upon the cross Might I say, it seems so fitting in its way He was a carpenter by trade Or at least that’s what I’m told My kill-hand’s tatooed . across it’s brother’s fist That filthy five! They did nothing to challenge or resist. In Heaven His throne is made of gold The ark of his Testament is stowed A throne from which I’m told All history does unfold. It’s made of wood and wire And my body is on fire And God is never far away. Into the mercy seat I climb My head is shaved, my head is wired And like a moth that tries To enter the bright eye I go shuffling out of life Just to hide in death awhile And anyway I never lied. And the mercy seat is waiting And I think my head is burning And in a way I’m yearning To be done with all this weighing of the truth. An eye for an eye And a tooth for a tooth And anyway I told the truth And I’m not afraid to die And the mercy seat is burning And I think my head is glowing And in a way I’m hopin’ to be done with all this twistin’ of the tru