| A tortured scream at midnight, the moon sheds another tear,
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| a tear that’s filled with sorrow, for the child that cries in fear,
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| fear of both its parents, who’s lives are so frustrated
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| the child was not a child of love, through lust it was created.
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| They whip it with a leather strap, burn it on the red hot grill,
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| cos mother didn’t want this child, she wished she was on the pill,
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| and father can’t go out at night for drinks with all the boys,
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| cos booze money goes on nappies, baby food and toys.
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| With baby crying, day and night, tears on tormented breath,
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| something must be sorted out, before it dies a violent death.
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| The parents have a another row, which ends up in a fight,
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| and baby screams in terror as it senses hatred in the night,
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| a hatred so intense it cuts through the atmosphere,
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| an atmosphere so razor sharp, that breaking point is near. |