| Though you see me now, the mere ghost of a man,
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| I once had the heart of a lion.
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| Commanding my ship, between many a shore,
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| The ol’Jolly Roger a-flyin'.
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| Mine was a name that put fear into men,
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| And regret into plenty o’lasses.
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| Lo, how I wish I could take back those days,
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| As I stare at these empty beer glasses.
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| I think of the times past when I had it all,
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| I toyed with men’s wives and their daughters.
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| And in my pursuit of this ill-gotten wealth,
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| I stabbed and I slashed and I slaughtered.
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| And for what? |
| (HEY!)
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| The men that I’ve fought,
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| Are matched by the number of women I’ve bought.
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| And for what? |
| (HEY!)
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| I’ve killed and I’ve shot,
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| And reddened the cold tears of children with blood.
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| And if I could go back and make my amends,
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| I’d make all those mistakes again.
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| And kill every last one of those bastards, my friend!
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| My ship was the last sight that many would see,
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| As we narrowed the gap with our quarry.
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| Sound of the cannons and splintering wood,
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| Did herald our pass into glory.
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| We seized all the bounty and scuppered the ship,
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| Our hearts hadn’t time for no wounded.
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| I took my share and the crew got the rest,
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| And on into port we did bound it.
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| Life has many pleasures and we had our fill,
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| Of food and of wenches and beer.
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| When we tired of the port or had drunken it dry,
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| The time to set sail had come near.
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| And for what? |
| (HEY!)
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| We heed no law,
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| The other man suffers so we can have more.
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| And for what? |
| (HEY!)
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| We lived every day,
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| The noose of the hangman a hairsbreadth away.
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| And if I could go back and make my amends,
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| I’d make all those mistakes again.
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| And kill every last one of those bastards, my friend!
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| Oh, I have seen wonders you never have dreamed,
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| And taken my fair share I must say.
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| Holds full of booty I happily seized,
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| From crews who would not see a new day.
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| Spanish gold came and went, and gemstones were sold,
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| And I knew more lay on the horizon.
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| Yet the beer was too good, and gals were too sweet,
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| And now in my old age, it’s gone.
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| These memories were bought with the lives of good men,
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| A price that I paid without scruple.
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| So many so suffered so I could get drunk,
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| And swagger from brothel to brothel.
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| Now for what? |
| (HEY!)
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| It’s been many years,
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| The screams of the vanquished still ring in my ears.
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| But for what? |
| (HEY!)
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| I’ve blood on my hands,
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| I wait for my place in the halls of the damned.
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| And if I could go back and make my amends,
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| I’d make all those mistakes again.
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| I’D KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THOSE BASTARDS, MY FRIENDS! |