“But you, children of a witch, come here!Sons of a slut, daughters of a whore.What business do you have taunting,sneering, and sticking out your tongue?Do you have any idea what wretches you’ve turned out to be?A race of rebels, a generation of liars.You satisfy your lust any place you find some shadeand fornicate at whim.You kill your children at any convenient spot—any cave or crevasse will do.You take stones from the creekand set up your sex-and-religion shrines.You’ve chosen your fate.Your worship will be your doom.You’ve climbed a high mountainto practice your foul sex-and-death religion.Behind closed doorsyou assemble your precious gods and goddesses.Deserting me, you’ve gone all out, stripped downand made your bed your place of worship.You’ve climbed into bed with the ‘sacred’ whoresand loved every minute of it,adoring every curve of their naked bodies.You anoint your king-god with ointmentsand lavish perfumes on yourselves.You send scouts to search out the latest in religion,send them all the way to hell and back.You wear yourselves out trying the new and the different,and never see what a waste it all is.You’ve always found strength for the latest fad,never got tired of trying new religions.