Gonna Cut You Down

Sooner or later you're gonna cut me down.

Rope around my neck, you found me dead, the ground is red.

Where's the pound of flesh?

I'm 'ma clown at best with 'a sound of stress from what I found, when I pound my chest.

There's a sound of death.

Now, I'm bound for rest.

Prayers are an "Ow of breath for the Tao is 'a hour of stress.

So don't cut me down, cause I'm allowed some rest.

No hope found and I'm out of breath.