| when the maiden fucked the whore
|
| took the old crone’s name in vain
|
| said oh my god, what insidious scenes
|
| but repression and shame
|
| my body is no temple, not the site for your exchange
|
| send us back to the money lenders, well out of range
|
| i am not polished marble built to the portions of man
|
| you wear at my walls all that you want,
|
| i’ll never be your maiden
|
| not your body, not your land
|
| we can see right through you and your
|
| not your body, not your land
|
| we can see right through you and your
|
| oh white women, the chart of sin
|
| and chained by the reins,
|
| handed by high-tech businessmen
|
| for part-relation gain
|
| bodies of color, all bent broken and bent
|
| we’ll be battered to a keyhole, wrecked and killed and spent,
|
| economic sanctions for sterilization
|
| we’ll keep the population to amenable minimal
|
| not your body, not your land
|
| we can see right through you and your
|
| not your body, not your land
|
| we can see right through you and your
|
| as the people sow the land, the capillary comes down
|
| to undermine or torment me
|
| forces seen into the ground
|
| but they can see right through you
|
| and your endless
|
| they expire in the fight
|
| your body, not your land
|
| not your body, not your land
|
| we can see right through you and your
|
| not your body, not your land
|
| we can see right through you and your
|
| don’t try to inscribe your social mores on me
|
| i don’t subscribe to your beliefs
|
| i don’t believe in your piety
|
| don’t try to inscribe your social mores on me
|
| i don’t subscribe to your beliefs
|
| i don’t believe in your piety |