Text: Homo Iratus. Dead Upon Conception.

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.