In Gilead lyrics

(Nolite te bast*rdes carborundorum)

Will I buckle under?
Will I become just what they want me to be?

(Here in terror identity crises are so petty)
How can we submit to this?
Separated in red

Our identities
Split three ways
(Will I submit)
You have reduced us to our fertility
(Or will I be martyred, uselessly?)

What of OUR sacrifice?

A womb
A c*nt
A dried-out shell

Your ("His") future
Your present
Your obligation

How can we submit?
I want to be defiant
I want to tell them off

Nolitе te bast*rdes carborundorum...
Will I beliеve that?
Will I believe that hope?

(Don't let the bast*rds grind you down.)