Interpret:

Lamb Of God

Album:

New American Gospel

Hate. 
Falling three feet to the ground.
Face down on the cold floor 
of a well-oiled SF pigsty 
I met my one true love.
Feel youth crushed somewhere 
between concrete & boot, 
another victim of the lower hate.
You are not my god. 
You think this is funny don't you pig?
How the helpless freak squirms beneath 
our state sanctioned soles, 
but what is he laughing at?
There was nothing padded 
about a wagon full of mace.
Rotator cuff hyper extends behind my back 
ribs cracking beneath a rain of sticks & heels
falling down like the rain outside.
Oh yeah bitch, 
I'm gonna remember your face 
your name your number;
and when I crawl out of this hole 
I'm going to make you all mine.
Auschwitz Kent State 
Chi-Town 68 Tianamen Waco.