As I pass through these hills, blowing over me a dead chill And if blows through my bones, I’m in company of ghosts It’s April 17th, 1843, and I’ve just crossed the desert With the sunset on my back, skies are turning black I camp though I know better than to stay in the devil’s cauldron Your heart may protect you, your mind may keep you sane But your soul will desert you in the devil’s cauldron Hungry and tired, I shake off the cold by the fire Through the sputtering flames, I see enemies and friends From the depths of the night, a beauty comes to me and lays down by my pillow And at the rise of dawn I wake alone and find my body hollow Because I slept with the devil’s children Your heart may protect you, your mind may keep you sane But your soul will desert you in the devil’s cauldron My heart I’ll carry it, to a physician My mind I’ll take it to a psychologist My soul is forever lost to them Your heart may protect you, your mind may keep you sane But your soul will desert you in the devil’s cauldron