Из альбома: MTV Unplugged
It crawls on his back, won't ever let him be. Stares at the walls 
until the cinder blocks can breathe. His eyes have gone away, escaping 
over time. He rules a crowded nation inside his mind. 
He knows that night like his hand. He knows every move he made. Late 
shift, the bell that rang, a time card won't fade. 10:05 his truck 
pulled 
home. 10:05 he climbed his stair, about the time he was accused of 
being 
there. 
But I'm not the man. He goes free as I wait on the row for the man to 
test the rope he'll slip around my throat... and silence me. 
On the day he was tried no witness testified. Nothing but evidence, 
not hard to falsify. His own confession was a prosecutor's prize, made 
up 
of fear, of rage and of Outright Lies. 
But I'm not the man. He goes free as the candle vigil glows, as they 
burn my clothes. As the crowd cries, "Hang him slow!" and I feel my 
blood 
go cold, he goes free. 
Call out the KKK, they're wild after me. And with that frenzied look 
of half-demented zeal, they'd love to serve me up my final meal. 
Who'll read my final rite and hear my last appeal? Who struck this 
devil's deal?