Walking the fine line of the guillotine
With the life and the blood seeping through
These victims of speech simply say what they mean
Because history can never stay true

Holding the fibers of the hanging noose
Where crowds and the black hoods abound
Watching the weighted knots coming loose
Stretching feet never touch frozen ground

Lying down next to the firing squad
As the men with their rifles take aim
Seeing the general make silent nod
The end in this chapter's the same