Fiend Or Foul

I beat the dead, they don’t fight back
They have no need, they have no lack
They bear the marks of my attack
I beat the dead, they don’t react

I rob the poor, they don’t mind
I take whatever I happend to find
It’s never much at any one time
I rob the poor, it’s not a crime

Call me fiend, call me foul
Throw me to the dogs that bite and howl
Before you point your finger or cry an empty tear
Buy yourself an alibi, get yourself a mirror

I kill the children before they born
As their little feet begin to form
Don’t buy them shoes, they won’t be worm
I kill the children, I am not scorned