no coins in the fountain
no diamonds in your mouth
beggars in the closet 
struggling to come out

you move in quiet circles
your strategies are strange
some day you'll run out of 
prisoners to exchange

sinners will pay
sinners will pay
what you stole is not yours 
to give away
and so your season's ending 
devastated fruit
hanging from the branches
in a deadly mood

you'll serve them at a table
and from a sliver spoon
some day I eill refuse them
that day is coming soon

sinners will pay
sinners will pay
what you stole is not yours 
to give away