How detesful an act can be fathomed; logic eluded
The concrete, poured with ill intent
Malice undulates beneath impulse
Tempted by incestous despoilment
Their very being expunged
Born into enslavement; walled away from aid
Dictated from his lips to her pen; all lies
Abandoned is the notion of priveledge
Congential offspring come forth throuh years of woe
They sleep as he departs each night
Retreating inward, defeated
Isolation decieves the town that knows them not
Gazing upon his face without a second thought; they carry on
Cruel, accursed days listlessly fall down
Still; perverted thoughts, patriarchial crown
Behind their white lips they search for breath
Their dreams serve only to torture them
No fodder from the outside More from Belie My Burial