O.D.H.G.A.B.F.E.

Hate, falling three feet to the ground

Face down on the cold floor of a well oiled SF, pigsty I met my one true love

Feel youth crushed somewhere between concrete and boot

Another victim of the lower hate

You are not my God, you think this is funny, don't you, pig?

How the helpless freak squirms beneath our state sanctioned soles

But what is he laughing at?

There was nothing padded about a wagon full of mace

Rotator cuff hyper extends behind my back

Ribs cracking beneath a rain of

Sticks and heels falling down like the rain outside

Oh yeah, bitch, I'm gonna remember your face, your name, your number

And when I crawl out of this hole I'm going to make you all mine

Auschwitz, Kent State Chi-Town 68, Tianamen, Waco