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.
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.

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