He kept his craft confined to the night
Subdued by sleep, we hate to wake up
He cataloged and counted his kills, divided the dead,
And suddenly stopped

Prompted by the heat of July,
The sweat on his skin beaded and fell
He never prayed a day in his life
Cause man what's the point when you've been promised to hell

There's something to be said for the crowd,
Which gathered and grew and erupted into song
He smiled, as he toyed with the noose, and took up their words
Oh, it won't be long

Oh, it won't be long [x4]

The tune collapsed, and the mob ceased their song
Confused and in awe of a monster trained to sing
The hangman tightened up and leaned in,
And offered the man a chance to speak before he'd swing
He cried out:
"Man and monsters both make mistakes
But for every man who cries and begs for time enough to breathe
You'll find a million monsters like me
Who'll lick your world and laugh when we leave"
Then the trap door released

Oh, it won't be long