Lyrics:

B. Cowsill

East toward a stream of meadows
Four miles from Dover Mines
I built a small gray cottage
In the country, I would die
Soon I would die
Wandered thru the forest at night
Cause I could not take to sleep
I'd be thinking when would
Death come
Frustrated I would weep
I would weep
When will my turn come
I wait so long a time
I think it's unfair
That I pay such a fine
When will that turn be mine
One night I woke up knowing
Came running out my door
Until I stood before
My death in store