The angry man pierces , pinches and pokes me every night.
Using thornes in his left hand and nails in his right .
That bitter man tortures me as i lie in my marital bed ,to put on my nightgown it is something that I dread .
This cruel man hurts me as I cry myself to sleep. it is in a bed of nails that I lie down and weep.

An Ole soul cries in his hole
He groans, he aches, His skin rough and dry.
He can no longer walk and he has no food.
He turns to the angels and ask why?
Just water they bring to quince his constant thirst.
His soul is old and it will soon disperse.
A melody he sang to praise them for the help.
He wasn't looking for money, for pity nor for wealth.
Only a drink to quince his daily thirst.
Upon the next visit the people began to say.... "That Ole Soul didn't live another day". For he had died.
Upon the Angel's departure from the small hole, in search of the Ole Soul, this Angel now cried.

Those that abandon their families
Those that look for something else
Those that leave their homes.
Those that refuse to get some help。
Ones that betray their mates
Ones that feel that it is nothing left
Ones that ruins others lives
Ones that love, they have never felt
Cowards Those Cowards.

Heroes needed, people pleaded.
Someone to right the wrong of his fellow man.
Someone else took matters into their own hand.
A Hero is need ,people proceeded.
Someone to conquer the wicked activity
This hero could be you this hero could be me.
Heroes are in need, as the people have decreed!