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