Reflecting on my past life, and it doesn't have much time;
'Cause at 5 o'clock, they take me to the Gallows pole;
The sands of time, for me are running low...

Running low...

When the priest comes to read me the last rights;
I take a look through the bars at the last sights;
Of a world that has gone very wrong for me...

Could it be that there's some sort of error?
Hard to stop the surmounting terror;
Is it really the end or some crazy dream?

Somebody please tell me that I'm dreaming;
It's not easy to stop from screaming;
Words escape me when I try to speak...

Tears, they flow; but why am I crying?
After all, I'm not afraid of dying;
Do not beleive that there never is an end...

As the guards bring me out to the courtyard;
Somebody crys from a cell, "God be with you!"
If there's a god then why does he let me die?

As I walk, all my life drifts before me;
And though the end is near, I'm not sorry;
Catch my soul, it's willing to fly away...

Mark my words, believe my soul lives on;
Don't worry, now that I have gone;
I've gone beyond to see the truth...

So when you know that your time is close at hand;
Maybe then you'll begin to understand;
Life down there is just a strange illusion