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Deep in the back of a meat packing plant Dragged through the plastic curtains... Eyes are glaring, fists are clenched, This darkened room, this awful stench... You're feeling the sanguineous hate In their stares, as you despair As if any answers you give will be lies You know that you are going to die! Before that they must make you talk Bound to a chair, pulled by your hair Feel a blow on the back of your neck Making you lose your breath Your neck snaps back You open your eyes, the pain is quite harsh Blood starts to flow from the open wound They scream their demands! You're pistolwhipped the bludgeons fly, impacting your head From Letras Mania