your hammer's good, it's headed south
it keeps your secret, without a mouth

the ground is hard, the ground is cold
tells many stories, as I am told

where you've walked, how much you weigh
you'll cover your tracks, but still, one day

the smallest fragment, the tiniest hair
well get you life, to this I'll swear

you make your bed, you dig your grave
and to your guilt,you'll be a slave

Think this out while you sit in the slammer
He carried the cross, but you bore the hammer.

He took the nails you pounded in
"Forgive them Father, they know not their sin"

Three days later the ground will attest
The man was seen walking along with the rest.

A carpenter by trade, he knew about hammers
He knows about you. his lost little lamber.

He stands at the door, speaks truth and won't stammer
Be the best friend to the man with the hammer.