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 colour, 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
