The world imbalanced, you mighty man of mind
Giant creatures fell to your greed and pride.
You destroyed the human plan, now we are divided
Who will release us from from your chains?

Nature now in jeopardy, struggling to survive
Planet zero soon to be, intervention needed
Thanks to you mighty man of mind
Your bows and arrows will break one day.

There was once a picture painted of peace and love
Then it all disappeared at the strike of your hand
The power was yours given by higher source
Then you crossed a line and now your in decline.

So down you must fall, you must reap what you have sown
The beast of the field felt your domain, mighty man of mind.
So walk tall like a Philistine, it was in yourself you put your trust
Now nature brings you to your knees, on your sword die you must.

Are you really gonna judge me?
               Because I'm not the same.
But haven't you heard?
            That difference is beautiful.
Are you really gonna judge me ?
               Based on a  book
                    Thousands of years old.

          A book that's created by man.
               It's made a breed of haters.
              All it is
                                   Is a book of lies.
              Created to take control
                              of everyone's lives.
              Well I won't be held down.

              Stone me.
                                         Execute me.
              I won't change who I am
                          for a man in the sky.
             Hate me.
                                      Desecrate me.
     I won't change for a book of lies.

             So if there is a God now
Are you telling Me?
             He made me just to be hated.
                       Made me out of greed.
             This is a world of judgement.
                         And we're all on trial.
             All of you haters
                             are living in denial.

             Stone me.
                                           Execute me.
             I won't change who I am
                            for a man in the sky.
            Hate me.
                                        Desecrate me.
      I won't change for a book of lies.

            Judge me.
                                                Burn me.
            I won't live in shame.
                               I will live in pride.
            I will not hide.

           The world's about religion.
                       I think that is a shame.
           I think that all the rights
              should be the ******* same.
           The same for every person
                             living in this world.
           The same for every living boy
                                                  and girl.

           This is a world of hate now.
                         I want that to change.
           But is our freedom
really out of range?
           You can't take it from us.
                   No, we won't back down.
           You can preach your *******
                 while we steal you crown.

i.
Eve has hands like a wrecked garden: dirt caked under her fingernails, wild and vicious and thorn-covered; wild and sunstruck and crawling. She presses her palms into the grass underneath the orchards and prays a blasphemy.

ii.
This is how it goes: there is always a boy, or maybe a snake. There is a time before, with the darkness so whole and absolute it chokes, and there is a time after, with burning light and shame so heavy it puts you on your knees.
This is how it goes: your summerborn cheeks flushed but your eyes cold and barren and wintered.
This is how it goes: you are made from bones that never settled into the earth.

iii.
The apples hanging from the trees have gone nearly overripe and heavy, bending from the boughs and flushed red.
Eve has a mouth sticky-sweet and soft, a body like a rosebush in bloom.
Eve has a bird's nest of hair that calls home only vultures.
This is how it goes: there is always a hunger for more.

iv.
Eve presses her palms against the planes of her stomach, against the soft curves the moon has smoothed onto her.
Eve presses her palms into the grass and howls: *"I will not bear you fruit."

Slayer plate time Quest heart ways, let hymm birds birth
Eye glisten turn toward stary set' letter
Ethers bedding point mother hue gowns bones lurch
Grave gracious bed thee warrant trim sent fetter
wake to thee ceiling gold adorns regretter
tis nor en-earth en-holy slumber ******
lay'er postion whence kit kist steady tremble

until presence awake beneath hallow Moons
Purify water tis waken moore' hind
Anglo sea seep, teeth mark O'er only lions
marshes set ablaze twined looks clock kist mind
bellows hours come rise sepent vagabong kind
hello thee waken lonly tusks thrash and throb
member BA distain radius girth see'th cob

They gave you a crown of thorns
when you asked for roses
and anyway, the Earth has gone on strike
and the sun only beats down on wise men
who tan like leather and see stars in the light.

They gave you vinegar
when you asked for wine
but vinegar cannot imitate grapes
and grapes do not grow
when the soil does not sit in God’s hands.

They gave you milk
when you asked for blood
but the milk sours like lemons left to rot
and anyway, milk cannot fill veins
or pump air like lungs.

They gave you fire
when you asked for ice
to cool the head in your head
from the monster who made a home inside
and planted a dying garden.

They gave you wood
when you asked for bone.
Don’t they know that wood rots undersea,
and your limbs are swimming in the sheets
they lay down for you on a silver bed.

They gave you air
when you asked for lungs,
so you heave with bugged-out eyes
and your blue veins drain out
of your callused hands.

They gave you food
when you asked for life.
Why don’t they understand that food turns your stomach round
like a thorned crown
positioned on its side.