| 45 minutes
|
| He hung there alive
|
| For 45 minutes
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| And then he died
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| The preacher gave his sermon
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| Told folks to kill that vermin
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| Trap door dropped open, the rope snapped tight
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| But still he up there squirmin'
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| Alive, hangin' in the heat
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| Hear him gaspin', kick his feet
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| Mortified people screamin' in fright
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| But the little kids think it’s sweet
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| Hey yo, the executioner, send em to Lucifer
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| Appear with the cross, call me the crucifer
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| Trip the damn door, body parts kickin'
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| And dangles, the strand around the neck as he, he strangles
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| The crowd grows, anticipation soars
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| Thirsty for death and they wanna see more
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| Cheers to their throne, time lingers on
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| Sadistically watchin', kickin' dirt till he’s gone
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| Sweet Lord Jesus, please take his life
|
| (15 minutes)
|
| This endless torture
|
| (He's swingin' and swingin')
|
| Dark clouds above us (Blue is the sky)
|
| (30 minutes)
|
| I know you see us
|
| (He's swingin' and swingin')
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| When will this end? |
| (This horror show)
|
| (45 minutes)
|
| His feet are kickin', he’s swingin'
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| Sun beats on his hood
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| The knot is tightened good
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| His arms are tied up behind his back
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| Shit, kill him, someone should
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| His neck is strechin' longer
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| The rope is that much stronger
|
| His body sways in a gentle breeze
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| The sight is somethin' somber
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| His feet dangle and his throat gets tangled
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| With a rope that strangles every bit of breath that’s left
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| Outta his body until nothing’s left
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| And I gotta be honest, I feel it in my chest
|
| I’mma witness with a sickness
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| Who love’s to watch em hang from a distance
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| Victim swingin' until they’re all witless
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| 45 minutes, at least someone end this
|
| What kept him alive?
|
| (15 minutes)
|
| For all those gruelling minutes
|
| (He's swingin' and swingin')
|
| The people did nothin' but stare
|
| (Blue is the sky) (30 minutes)
|
| Fixated on his torture
|
| (He's swingin' and swingin')
|
| (When will this end?)
|
| They had all the time in the world
|
| (45 minutes)
|
| To wait for him to die
|
| (He's swingin')
|
| Turnin' green like fix me
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| Lookin' hella trippy
|
| 15, less than a full whole 60 minutes of life
|
| With silence of sight
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| Will 2 wrongs combine together in an effort to make things right
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| Why are there signs of crime soaked in violence
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| Everyone stands still like a bunch of stone giants
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| Lookin' down on him as he swings and sway
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| He will not die until the motherfuckers all go away
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| He swings, jerks, a vulture nearby lurks
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| As he spins up on that rope, we wonder if it hurts
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| Hear him gasp for breath, his soul is fighting death
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| If he gives up and let’s go, show’s over, nothing’s left |