Homo Iratus

Dead Upon Conception

Homo Iratus


As slugs of cold flesh 
They'll come to our world 
Embryos doomed at conception 
No mother is going to hold 
Birth to them will be 
An unknown experience 
Bastard's room and abortion 
Make the difference 
So warm inside 
No place to hide 
Mistaken conception 
Maternal rejection 

Parents now become 
Partners into guilt 
As their unborn children 
Are thrown away like filth 
Doctor represents 
The cold hand of death 
Who kills unborn children 
Upon the face of earth 

A spark of life 
That never ignites 
A seed picked by vultures 
That are dressed in white 

A murderer by law 
Who kills to make a living 
The stupid bastard's job 
Is taking instead of giving 
Before they see the light 
Their life meets rejection 
Abortive children 
The dead upon conception.