THE TAXPAYERS LYRICS

"Sudanese Lips"

My daughter, my son, with your HIV blood, and your tar-blackened lungs inside.
Send up a prayer from your thick, fleshy tongues to above.
Heaven be willing, and devils be slow, either take both my children away from me,
Or fatten my stomach off the blood of the working, and the blood of the hopelessly poor.

Away from me, always go far from me.

Fictional flies upon Sudanese lips: Subterfuge.
Separate marrow that spins round within centrifuges.

My son and my daughter, you are cannon fodder for the institution stronger than you.
Send out a warcry, be brave before you die, and sink when the water drowns you.
My daughter, my son, with your HIV blood, and your eyesight and hearing abused.
Fatten my pockets, I will make you iconic, and once you're fine, always confused.

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