| …in his thoughts the murderer blames the ones who pass the laws,
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| sentence to death and file the cases away. |
| In his eyes they commit a murder, planned and legalized by the government. |
| He asks himself: Could
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| they ever kill a man with their own hands…
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| This is my life, a piece of paper in your hands
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| You play the big guy
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| You’re behind the scenes of the crime
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| You don’t push the button
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| You pronounce the death sentence
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| Then you put me on hold, your henchmen to kill me Could you ever kill a man with your own hands
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| Tell me how strong you would be If you were forced to execute me?!
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| YOU LET ME ROT, LIKE A PIECE OF YOUR FLESH
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| YOU LET ME ROT, LIKE A PIECE OF YOUR FLESH
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| You really believe.
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| You’re going to church on Sunday.
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| You could do no harm
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| You represent the public opinion
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| I guess you don’t know
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| What’s going to happen that morning
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| Or you simply suppress that you’re a murderer
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| Could you ever sleep well at night, if I’d face you
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| Tell me how grateful you’d be If your own hands had to kill me?!
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| YOU LET ME ROT, LIKE A PIECE OF YOUR FLESH
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| YOU LET ME ROT, LIKE A PIECE OF YOUR FLESH |