[music: eilen-breitenbach / lyrics: eilen / arranged by WARHEAD]
... in his thoughts the murderer blames the ones who pa** the laws, sentence to d**h and file the cases away. In his eyes they commit a murder, planned and legalized by the government. He asks himself: Could they ever k** 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 bu*ton
You pronounce the d**h sentence
Then you put me on hold, your henchmen to k** me
Could you ever k** 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 k** me !?
YOU LET ME ROT, LIKE A PIECE OF YOUR FLESH
YOU LET ME ROT, LIKE A PIECE OF YOUR FLESH