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It crawls on his back, won't ever let him be. |
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Stares at the walls until the cinder blocks can breathe. |
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His eyes have gone away, escaping over time. |
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He rules a crowded nation inside his mind. |
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He knows that night like his hand. |
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He knows every move he made. |
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Late shift, the bell that rang, a time card won't fade. |
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10:05 his truck pulled home. |
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10:05 he climbed his stair, about the time he was accused of being there. |
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But i'm not the man. |
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He goes free as i wait on the row for the man to test the rope he'll slip around my throat... |
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And silence me. |
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On the day he was tried no witnesses testified. |
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Nothing but evidence, not hard to falsify. |
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His own confession was a prosecutor's prize, |
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Made up of fear, of rage and of outright lies. |
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But i'm not the man. |
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He goes free as the candle vigil glows, as they burn my clothes. |
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As the crowd cries, "hang him slow!" and i feel my blood go cold, he goes free. |
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Call out the kkk, they're wild after me. |
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And with that frenzied look of half-demented zeal, |
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They'd love to serve me up my final meal. |
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Who'll read my final rite and hear my last appeal? |
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Who struck this devil's deal? |
