It was about half past four, When they broke down the door, With our legs crossed behind us, We laid on the floor, The day the men in the masks came, The day the men in the masks came. They tied our hands with cable ties, Showed us documents of unspeakable lies, Stuck electrical tape over our crying eyes, They asked if I would sign them, They asked if I would sign them. Then they zipped us into body bags, alive, The men took us out for a little drive, In a damp car boot we took a ride, The men took us to a graveyard, The men took us to a graveyard. With a painful rip they restored my sight, I shielded my eyes from the new dawn light, It was useless, I knew, to put up a fight, More men would always come, More men would always come. I was pushed to the ground on my knees, My eyes a blur, I struggled to see, Then I said, "Oh good God, please", My wife stood in a grave. My wife stood in a grave. I could not live without her, I looked around, I could just see her face, just above ground, She pleaded with her eyes, made no sound, But there was no grave for me, There was no grave for me. They placed a pen in my hand, a gun at her head, Explained how I'd not be harmed when she was dead, She begged them to kill her, I ignored what she said, And I signed my name on the dotted line, I signed my name on the dotted line. [mojo] .....................