Bastard Lyrics
I hope a cancer claims you that stem cells could have cured.
And as you're puking out your guts from chemo, and dying in your bed, I hope your god still comforts you, because due to your ban of federal funding, science can not save you.
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And you did it to yourself.
And you'll be taking thousands more down with you, all because you equate a ball of cells in a petri dish with a conscious human being.
If I ever met you without your secret service I would spit in your face.
