Genocide
Ridiculous sentiments
Of traditional values
What pathetic attempts
To keep us under the heels of fools
You'd drown us in lies concerning dogma
And consequences that bring us no
Salvation
To punish those
Who've done no wrong
Bloviating about justice
With weak rhetoric
Cultivating a sickness
A righteous indignation
A rusted mouthpiece shouting, crying,
Wailing, and screaming for law
Well, who the fuck do you think you are
To speak for lives that are not your own
You must think you are God's gift to humanity
With all this power that has gone to your head
We; who the fuck gave you the right to
Think that you could take was isn't yours
We aren't toys to be played with
We're not the pieces to your game of politics
We are not your slaves
We're not the fodder for your wars
We are not your livestock
We are individuals, and you are not the hand of God
Hold my hand and drag me down
Down into hell we go
Hold my hand and drag me down
Grab my hand, and help me down
Fuck off
Who would throw stones at doves as they fly
Autor(es): Steven Serrato