...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