Hate. Falling three feet to the ground.
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Face down on the cold floor of a well-oiled SF pigsty I met my one true love.
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Feel youth crushed somewhere between concrete and boot,
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another victim of the lower hate.
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You are not my god. You think this is funny don't you pig?
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How the helpless freak squirms beneath our state sanctioned soles,
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but what is he laughing at?
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There was nothing padded about a wagon full of mace.
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Rotator cuff hyper extends behind my back ribs cracking beneath a rain of sticks and heels
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falling down like the rain outside.
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Oh yeah bitch, I'm gonna remember your face your name your number;
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and when I crawl out of this hole I'm going to make you all mine.
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Auschwitz Kent State Chi-Town 68 Tianamen Waco.
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O.D.H.G.A.B.F.E.
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Lamb Of God |