As they kneel on their hard wooden floors to pray
That all the damned heathens will see the light
And be saved from Hell's bondage by bonfire bright
And Cain's crosses glowing in southern night.
Our mothers and sisters and daughters and wives
Are reduced to receptacles, their whole lives
Possessed by one purpose: to nurture cells
More worthy of life, for they might be male
Like Jesus - thus wombs are warped into jails.
Poor Eve is the pattern primordial, damned
By gender, as race consigned sons of Ham
To servitude, their God-burned cross their coal
Complexions, and if one should flee their fold
Love says, "Scourge the body to save the soul."
If knowledge of ethics is primal sin
Then 'teaching all nations' commits again
That error, but teach they must, for their bane
Is difference; they're driven to all souls train
For Heaven, where all seraphs sing the same.