Please, Mister, please don’t throw me into that briar patch
Lord knows I might never find my way back
I don’t believe in heroes, greater glory dims the less
Secrets have a way of corroding their containers
So you stole fire from the gods, this precious gift
Some use for right and some for wrong
You can use the master’s tools to unmake the master’s house
But where will you run when the final judgment comes?
O Sinnerman, where you gonna run to?