It's the optimists that I can't bear
Chinese skin farms torture for a
Collection of innocent flesh and hair
Look on the brighter side of it, bud!
As your lie writhing in a stinking pile
Of naked muscle and pooling blood

The little girl whose teeth are smashed
Whose daddy has relapsed
And sold her as a piece of ***
To be ****** over and over for some cash
So that he can buy his ****** crack
And bleed his veins for a dwindled stash

The starving owl-eyed boy who
Believes himself evil for the thought of
Turning his little brother into his next meal
And not even a little left to steal
As ribcages tell a thousand tales
Along lines of skin and bone so frail

So **** your rhyme schemes
And your bleeding heart activists
Who scream in college courts
And completely lack the knack of it
Skin them alive and burn them as well
And maybe they'd have given their
Very souls to the fires of hell