All lined up
Palms against the wall
They're praying for a saviour
But they know nobody cares

Three men raise their arms
Tools of war, constructed only to take lives
To spray the walls with the blood of the guilty
Or the blood of the innocent

The order is given
Sharp cracks fill the street
Like a master whipping a slave
Only a thousand times faster

Hollow cylinders of brass clatter on the cobble floor
The wine of life flows through the grooves in between the stones
As the bodies fall, their essence pours into the drains
To join the rest of the waste this city wants to dispose of