Sudanese Lips The Taxpayers

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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

Away from me, always go far from me
Away from me, quickly go far from me

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