This morning there are no rods or staffs to comfort you
Dressed as a target as you amble in your chains
Stumble through the corridors that lead to our makeshift valley of death
The prison's backyard where you'll give us your final breath
Last night I saw you dine with lovers and human tears
But glanced at me in ways that brought to life my sleeping fears
That today you'll bite my neck and peel away the aging skin
Expose the lifeless body and the void divinity within

So tell me when I've read you your rights
When the guns are in their place
When your crime no longer seems absurd

What will you say Kezia when we ask what are your final words?