Song of Stillness Lyrics

Vile child, premature birth,
bringer of malaise and misfortune.
She'll yet serve a greater purpose:
transfigure pain to prosperity.

Isolate...Truncate...Degenerate...Stagnate!

By farce or force,
interrogate her bodily systems:
dissect all of those tenable.

Poison by gavage.
Bludgeon her into submission
then she'll obey and be still.

Divining mother's fabrications:
spiteful ruminations conceive an urgent union.
Mother lies -
for that, she'll be still.

Sentenced by child,
executed by him -
so sick and depraved.
With vile, lustful ends,
he'll unmake her maker.

By bloodlusted blade,
she'll sputter fluids and child's name,
then they'll proclaim:
"That Bitch is dead!"