There\'s an old story, of a old-looking fellow, pendulous by the dock\'s tree
With his head drooping low, but his eye lost in the sea
It voices the story, of things no living man could see
And as if hearing your thoughts, the hanged man begins to speak.
\'I\'ve seen secrets, of men that walk this Earth
Of tiny devils with colossal wings, that hide among the church
I\'ve seen the darkness that some come with birth
And for my silence, I\'ve gotten death in return.
With no one to worry, for I am dead as I can be
Free to walk the shadows, though thou can\'t smile with any glee
Yet, like the most shy creature undersea, I see things no one could foresee
Of the living I\'ve become loose, yet from the beyond, I\'ve become escapee.
I wished for nothing more than to live in this view
Though gloomy the sky, there\'s a hint of blue and the wind still blew
I\'ve been victim, of the most cruelest of coup
Much obliged thy be to you, if you tell cara mia, that I loved her through and through.
As deadman tell no tales, I shall whisper to you my last breaths
Beware of what deceives you and to whom you might confess
You\'ll hang here by the shoreline, where waves shine but there\'s no reflects
Take it from a hangman, that the horror won\'t end after death\'.
There an old story, of a old-looking fellow, pendulous by the dock\'s tree
With his head drooping low, but his eye lost at sea
It voices the story of things no living man could ever tell
But I\'m no living man, you see? tis\' just a tragic myth because, deadmen tell no tales.