Production - I Mother Earth

This man

May have a shitload

To prove

He’s got to settle a score

Against the groove

Infinite orgasm

Like endless joy and pain

Thunder to my ears

Like a holy rain

An aural wall of waking

Awash in purple paint

And a digging

Of the flowers in your yard

Electric rays of healing

Intensify the feeling of hatred

Towards the things you say

I ain’t

Fear a man-child

His soul and semen

Pathetic thoughts he thinks

Forever

Heard you caused a landslide

Walking home

Soon slide the man-child

Under your coat

Product of your generation

Product of your masturbation

Product of a master plan

Product of a holy man

Product of infanticide

Product of decaying minds

Product of mass corruption

The product

And its production