Humans born healthy
We converse all the time
Humans born deformed
We avoid all of them
Your body's crippled, your face deformed
Your hand's mutilated, your skin's burnt
My body's well-shaped, my face is striking
My hand's delicate, my skin's very neat
I can't see in your eyes
Why don't you look at me?
You don't belong in our society
You belong in a closed sanatorium
I'm shocked by your body
You're angry at our refusal
I'm horrified by your face
You're infurious at our inequity
Chorus:
All dreadful beings are creations of god
God has decided you'll live as a clod
God has decided, ill or healthy
