| Distined belly, forlorn eyes |
| coarse hair covers his body |
| he has his mothers greenflies |
| He is infected, beyond help |
| a pig wrapped tight in human skin |
| he has his mothers greenflies |
| A human becomes a pig at birth |
| when the mother fails to bathe it |
| and the piglet rolls in dirt |
| and eats feces and drinks urin |
| because mothers milk is sour… |
| and the pig grows and grows and grows |
| and gives blood to fleas |
| and he smells repulsive |
| and he laughs at the empty lies which are his life |
| his laugh a wounded dogs cry |
| and he has his mothers greenflies… |