Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
Shoot every tenth man down!

I am the law, I hold the crown.
And those, who oppose the crown,
Shall be put down, to the ground.
Put down, to the cold, cold ground.

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
Corpses don’t even make us frown!

By the grace of God I rule
In this world cold and cruel
Death is but a fancy tool
To crush the idea of a fool

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
Death is walking somewhere around.

The idea of freedom visited your mind.
Perhaps a safe-heaven in it it did find?
But be wary still, I am far from blind
And to the traitors, I am far from kind.

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
That is how you obey the crown.

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
He is king, you are but a clown.

So he spoke, and so he spoke,
It almost seemed like a bad joke:
Each side is clinging to his truth -
Eye to eye, tooth for a tooth.

Now we may say “conclusion” -
Trying hard to avoid confusion,
Each lives in his own illusion,
Trying to prove this poor delusion.

Cha. Cha!
This is the law…
Of the gods and monsters,
We are just failed imposters.

Human life is precious.
But it might infectious.
Thusss...

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
He is king, & you are but a clown!