I stood in the water
in the middle month of winter
my camel skin was torture
I was in a state of nature
the wind, sir, it was wicked
I was so alone
just as I predicted
my followers were gone
and I cried mercy
have mercy upon me
and I got down on my knees
thrown into a dungeon
bread and water was my portion
faith my only weapon
to rest the devil's legion
the speakhole would slide open
a viper's voice would plead
thick with innuendo
syphilis and greed
and she cried mercy
have mercy upon me
and I told her to get down on her knees
in a garden full of roses
my hands, tied behind me
my cousin was working mirackles
I wondered if he'd find me
the moon was turned toward me
like a platter made of gold
my death, it almost bored me
so often was it told
and I cried mercy
I cried mercy on me
crying mercy
have mercy on me
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