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I’m etching this curse with acid
And scratching it deep in lead
So it lasts through the ages

So people will know in the future
When you’re good and dead
That your life was outrageous

You won’t get away with anything…..

What I’m saying
Take what I’m saying
To the grave and beyond

God strike me down if I’m lying
Make me suffer even worse
Hear me while I’m testifying
And leaving you this curse
I’ve carving this tablet to last
Forever with my curse

I’m not looking for your pity
I’m not asking you to weep
On your private veranda

Set this scorching directive
On the rusted, crumbling heap
Of your own propaganda

And anybody who doubts me now
Can go to hell
Got my wits about me now

I saw a curse tablet in the British Museum. A piece of lead that someone had carved to call down curses on someone.

Sounded like a great idea for a blues song.

crumpled paper