You point your finger at me again,
The evidence suggests that that's okay.
The judge, the jury, it's all in their hands,
I'm going down today.
Bars seem to already lock me in,
The cold hard floor is in my mind.
I don't have the strength to do anything but wait,
With a cup of coffee to help them decide.
Pressure hits me like a bullet,
From the gun you shot at me.
I'm so innocent infront of you people,
Stop pointing the finger at me.
If I wanted to kill then you'd feel it,
I don't believe that it's right to pretend.
So strike your hammer to my heart,
And send me down again. |
