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Come down off the cross / you dead-hearted frauds. Default to your script,
to your scripture – preaching life and worshipping death. Legislate to
dominate, because your mantra's got nothing left. I saw the light – a
black hole of selective conscience. All bodies were yours (said the Lord)
to blame, shame, crush and control. Live from a pulpit, congress or court.
Life, what about it? There's death in your heart – and you don't give a
fuck. We know what you do, when they make it out of the womb the wrong
color, sex or gender. Wrong class, opinion or culture. Cut down / at every
turn. Snuffed out / with sanctity to burn. Crocodile prayers, carried to
full term and beyond. Dig a grave for the hypothetical. Loss of inventory.
Loss of capital. Save your fraudulent tears for the living, you who build
whole worlds on the backs of the dead.

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