II

Maybe it’s not your fault
That you’re a stone block full of agression.
Maybe that’s the way God likes you.
Shootin’ men without guns.
And when you’ve lent your soul to the devil again
And you’re on your way to shred even more people
Think about the broken faces and cry
Think about the hate of the big puppeteer
The crimes of the queen of hearts and king of spades

Now I can tell from your eyes, you’ve got a one-way ticket to hell.
And the thought that I have to give you to that miscreated world, hurts me.