Easter Oratorio (Kommt, eilet und laufet, ihr flüchtigen Füße), BWV249: iv. Recitative (Alto, Soprano, Tenor, Bass): O kalter Männer Sinn

歌詞

When someone you love is kidnapped, it's the worst form of thieving. Naturally, my blood is boiled to the terse point of seething. Embroiled in a plot of political propaganda. Engulfed by the opposition's slander to which they pander. Citizens like me are the reason why we have the military. Denizens like them are the reason why we are so solitary. All this injustice forces me to go forth and be voluntary. Constant inaction, retraction and subtraction's not mandatory. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. My morals I hold very dear. Innocents are safe, criminals fear. Very few I consider my peer. All, except authority, come near. I'm the tooth pick to their grime, antithesis to their crime. They're the infection, I'm the injection. They are the cancer, I am the cure. My adversaries are lean, green and mean. There is not such a thing as in between mowing the lawn and mowing down these troops, since life is shredded short, as can be seen. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. They are the poison, I am the potion. Beat down all these ingrate runts. Shot down all those inbred cunts. I've got an axe to grind and you're the oak. Your blood, the pores of my chopper, will soak. I'm the knife to your steak, your bones will ache and break. You are the sadist, I become callous. I am the artist, you are the canvas. I'm the scalpel to your scalp, giving your mind much needed help. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. I persist to insist to push you over the edge. You refuse to resist to face my hammer of sledge. Through artful valour, I become Van Gough. With pain and anger, you're reduced to sloth. Paint your face with a bit of rouge. Apply swift strokes whose impact are huge. Contort your limbs like a slab of clay. Distort your face, tact enters the fray. From my palette, I obtain my brush. Just one sharp swipe and I make you shush. Your brain becomes mush, your speech is slush. That's what happens when you push and push. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill. Overkill.