Come join me where there is no genocide;
No one believing to be better than the next.
Where, for the righteous, human capabilities are expanded;
I am like the cheetah, then the falcon when necessary
in order to fight or escape.

Come find me in the thrush,
spilling tears to fill years of streams;
There is no rush to save thousands,
at least inflict a bit of humanity.
When we flee from this country
we will be fleeing from ourselves-
From our roots or from our bodies.

Ultimately, the return is to the land,
through fruits, these fruits provided by our flesh can become
Rotten, spoiled, stunted.
The good outnumber the bad,
but the bad demand so much power.
The stench of decay outweighs the light fragrance of purity.

What are your ideals
when throwing women and children to the ground,
Piercing bodies with unjustifiable bullets.
The deadweight is literal-
May rest never reach your soul
for the eyes of those you terminated will
always be there to haunt you in your sleep.

Pain, tears...
Come join me where
We have no sympathy,
Where ...
We are as immune to human sentiment
as the cold steel in weaponry.


I want to be invincible.




-Mex (Kin...) 2005