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