| Named, the day and date
|
| Picked, the place and time to meet
|
| Set, the words I uttered in stone
|
| To right the many wrongs
|
| That I’ve done along the way
|
| Now the ball’s in my own court
|
| Angels hide in the inglenook
|
| Saints alive, I’ll be brought to book
|
| One false move was all it took
|
| All the wicked thoughts will be brought to book
|
| I’m not proud of what I did before
|
| I acknowledge all my actions nonetheless
|
| Undiminished, the returning score
|
| I played my part in any sins I now confess
|
| All that’s done is done
|
| And all that comes along the way
|
| Lands up in the lap of the gods
|
| One false step, one last look
|
| Under time and tide I’ll be brought to book
|
| I never thought I’d get to see this through
|
| The cold documented case
|
| One by one the arguments fall through
|
| The past stares me in the face
|
| Never thought I’d see it through
|
| Here it is, the self-obsession and surrender
|
| Here it is, it’s right in front of me
|
| Here it is, the package gets returned to sender
|
| Here, with interest, it comes back to me
|
| I never thought I’d see it through
|
| Finally wearing history naked on my face
|
| I’ll disclose the truth of what I’ve done
|
| Reveal the lines I’ve spun in passing
|
| I will face up to the music
|
| And with what breath’s left in my lungs
|
| I’ll settle up the score and bid farewell to everyone
|
| Time to square the circle
|
| Time to dot the «i"s and cross the «t"s
|
| Time to keep on working
|
| To unspot the hand that did the deeds
|
| To wash out the wounding
|
| To effect a final remedy
|
| In the last accounting
|
| All the sum of parts in threnody
|
| I’m not proud of who I’ve been before
|
| I’ve no pride in what I’ve done before
|
| Time alone holds what’s in store
|
| I’m gathered in by hook or by crook
|
| All in due course I’ll be brought to book |