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Children of the Damned By Ron Baker

Reluctant prisoners of your mother's womb
Suffering pain and paralysis
For her selfish moments of pleasure
Buried by prisoners in a wooden tomb.

Black stencilled numbers scrawled on wooden boxes
Uncaring work in uncaring cities
Prisoners buried by prisoners
Ironic retribution born from their crime.

They are the children of the damned
Killed by their innocence
By the self destruction of their mothers' crave.
They are the children of the damned
Sent in their suffering to a pauper's grave.

Abandoned to die by the victims of self
Destined to die in squalor
And without dignity of love
Life falls victim to pleasure, drug and greed.

They are the children of the damned
Killed in their innocence
By the self destruction of their mothers' crave.
They are the children of the damned
Killed in their innocence
Sent in their suffering to a loveless grave.

With heads bowed in grief, the toughest of the tough
Hard men cry with passion and despair
Boxes stacked by a graveyard wall
Touched by this travesty, how many hearts will crack?

They are the children of the damned
Killed in their innocence
By the self destruction of their mothers' crave.
They are the children of the damned
Killed in their innocence
Sent in their suffering to an unclaimed grave.




Ron Baker 2006