[Erin Mallone]

Wince and flatter
Or your backs will be scored
With thin red welts.

Like cattle, "live"-stock
Guards prattle, "die"-stock.
Packed in the wagon
With the hands on their head,
And let not women's weapons,
Attempt to kill the dead.
See, the star will light the way.
Persecution.
Bribe and hope that it will pay.
Genocide.

The stunted, ravaged heir,
Of twisted Bones.
The private execution,
The women's moans.
See, the star will light the way.
Persecution.
Bribe and hope that it will pay.
Genocide

Think how to cope,
With the blood running down his coat.
Well oiled metal,
As he pulls upon the greasy bolt.
Told to strip off
With the hands on their head.
Pushed into inhaling rooms,
Splashed about with red.

See, the star will light the way.
Persecution.
Bribe and hope that it will pay.
Genocide.

Brought near to beast;
My face all grime with filth.
Meander around the sleeping guards,
Having left no wealth.
See the scarlet clothed child
Saunter out,
Watch her naive spawned wiles,
As she walks back from the queue.