Boston AM

The palest of flesh is but a privilege to some.
From hell we march to rape the season.
These boots are stained with the courage of none.
Stompin' you faggots into oblivion.
Now I share the knife that cuts the tension.

Back peels your face as I poison the womb.
Cast your doubts on me, this heart is bleeding.
If only you knew how much I hate you!
The morning sun, so mindless and dull.
The day is yours, keep all who surrender.
This path I walk is not a choice I've made but the beat of a heart supple and raw.