Rolling like the roar and rumble comes to me like floods descending from the hill,

Wasps are buzzing for a tab of wax to plow their nails through and I'm the kill.

Like an amphitheatre the stag is taken down to entertain the school,

Orpheus is dying but a sawn-off double-barrel could have saved him from the farmer's tools.

My one regret is being a saint, my one regret is being an angel,

So much for a simple plan and so much for an honest man,

I should have been a hired gun,

I wish I could see the sun from up above the city slum,

I should have been a hired gun.

Standing on the mountain top I reach for God and like a rod 

I press a dime into my thumb,

I call out and no one hears, a Xanadu of fifty years is crumbling into a crumb.

Down into the mountain with Prometheus he goes

The House of Usher is falling down,

Never loved enough to spare a single thread when times were rough

he'd rather spend it on the town.

His one regret is being a saint, his one regret is being angelic,

I've been paying bills for crimes somewhere in another time 

I must have done.

My one regret is being a saint to everyone,

My one regret is not taking out more scum.