I

fire

my-

self

ten

times

a

day

I

throw

my-

self

in

a

watery

grave

With

four-

teen

hor-

ses

on

top

of

my

he-

ad

I

hear

the

voice

a-

gain

and

a-

ga-

in

I

walk

through

the

ever-

las-

ti-

ng

pit

By

the

mo-

un-

tain

of

fire

and

the

foun-

tain

of

spit

The

pilg-

rims

be-

side

me

just

talk

talk

ta-

lk

I

am

the

gob-

lin

and the

man-

gled

ha-

wk

A

de-

mon

lured

me

to

his

bed

Where

I

fell

into

a

poi-

son

sleep

I

dreamed

of

a

river

of

ants

in-

side

me

And

they

were

sad

and

star-

ted

to

ble-

ed

In

the

dawn

the

demon

spoke

In

the

sad-

dest

voice,

in

the

sa-

dde-

st

voice

He

said,

"Can

you

see

love

through a

te-

le-

sco-

pe?"

The

end

of

fear,

and

the

beginning

of

ho-

pe