...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