Songtexte: Tilt. Collect 'Em All. Minister Of Culture.

A pretty bride of India is burned with kerosene her husband keeps her =
dowry and his freedom is achieved, a burnese girl in Bangkok is of value =
for her skin, solid for her complexiion, never saw her home again. The =
minister of culture, he argues so well, his teeth are flashing as he =
details, a legacy of murder, a heritage of rape, a time honored =
tradition to maim and mutilate. Cut away her labia with dirty broken =
glass, she died of obstruction prainfully infected mass, a dress code =
violation is an outrage in Iran, splashed her face with acid only them =
the fun began. She wasn't good enough, a female child left face down =
packed in the snow, umbilical cord around her tiny feet, she suffers and =

dies alone. A woman in a western home is under house arrest, a drunkard =
is her jailer he's entitled to molest, her daughter is passed over when =
she tries to raise her hand, the likeliness of her success is not an =
even chance. The minister of culture, he's wringing his hands, he keeps =
on laughing as he demands- "No human right applies her, our women will =
agree, our property has spoken no cause to intervine."
Submitted by: Mel