I`m Retching On The Dirt — текст песни (napalm death)

I`m retching on the dirt,
it`s earthiness coating my throat.

I`m wincing on
the bitterest pill.
I refuse to swallow.

I`m offered the warmth of a velvet glove,
an iron fist to some.

I`m treated like a scab.
A traitor to my kind.

I`m hounded by
white-right
might
that wants the country pure.
I`m incensed by those in awe
of living amongst their own .

Selective perfection
will cut their own throats !

I`m constantly
forcing the point,
but we`re all retching
on dirt,
and we`ll choke
if we don`t spit it out !