Their hearts are hard as nails,their mouths blast hot air.They are after me, nipping my heels,determined to bring me down,Lions ready to rip me apart,young lions poised to pounce.Up, God: beard them! break them!By your sword, free me from their clutches;Barehanded, God, break these mortals,these flat-earth people who can’t think beyond today.I’d like to see their belliesswollen with famine food,The weeds they’ve sownharvested and baked into famine bread,With second helpings for their childrenand crusts for their babies to chew on.