He speaks with Salvador and Pablo
And he insists on first name terms
He sees the world is burning
As the pathetic take their turn
He burns the bridges as he finds them
For traitors' thoughts he has no time
And he's often heard to tell them
Where there's no rhythm there's no rhyme
And everything he touches is taking Death's turn
And everything he touches he knows will burn
He hangs with Evans and Ellis
But the Tyburn jig he will not do
And he believes in everything
That you would never want him to
As the crowd's begin to gather
Look between the painted maws
See the over-zealous monkeys
The laughing clowns, the ripened whores
He can make a date with Pierrepoint
And Jack Ketch is an old friend
He knows he's dancing on a knife edge
And the dance will get him in the end
A cloak and dagger cabaillero
Against whom the world is sworn
For he's the kind of bastard hero
Who you wish had not been born
