No More Bastard Children

Born in the fields of an unyielding heartland
With dust on your heels, your skin drenched in red
So full of life and so untouched
By the blight of existence
And the ideas of man, the poison that strangles

Lured by violence, ingested by hatred
The child in his hand and hate in his eyes
He unveiled a sharpened blade and cut the wings from my angel
And buried him deep
Where the primrose will never grow