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In a rundown dystopia ruled by a Man in a Suit, an innocent Prisoner is made the scapegoat for society’s problems and sentenced to death by hanging. She is not the first to be wrongly executed, and unless things change, she is far from the last.
Once I heard the news
It was clear
That all they want is you
And your voice to be stilled
And now you’re hanging from a noose
Tied to hate
A bitter way to spend your last breath
Now your last breath’s lost into the wind
They dug a shallow grave
So your stench
Would remind us of the punishment
You faced a time of fleeting grace
Where everyone was bound by shackles
And chains hold down our arms
The weak and the poor
Even with numbers are made strong
We are strong
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