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

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 are not my god

You think this is funny, don't you pig?

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 *****, I'm gonna remember

And when I crawl out of this hole

I'm going to make you all mine

Auschwitz

Kent State

Chi-Town 68

Tianamen

Waco