Interpret:

Napalm Death

Album:

Fear, Emptiness, Despair

I'm retching on the dirt
It's earthiness coating my throat. 
I'm wincing on the bitterest pill. 
I refuse to swallow. 
I'm offered the warmth of a velvet glove
An iron fist to some. 


I'm hounded by white
Right might that wants the country pure. 
I'm incensed by those 
In awe of "living amongst their own"


Selective perfection will cut their own throats! 


I'm constantly forcing the point 
But we're all retching on dirt, 
And we'll choke if we don't spit it out!