Grandad came out of the barn and he was white as a sheet, he said, "You don't want to go in there, it's awful."
After they found out that it was us that done it they hauled us to Planeyville in a trailer with bars that was originally made to haul circus animals, and displayed us in the town square there. People threw pennies and chunks of watermelon at us.
When we got rescued by the Reverend Williams he said, "It's not natural, being treated as an abomination at such a tender age." He took us in and treated us like a member of his family, which is to say he tried to ram the bible down our throat by main force.
We burned his house to the ground by the light of the autumn moon, then we burned down his church too. We did it out of kindness to his congregation, to all them good people who come out of their momma's bellies and never do an honest thing their whole lives long. It's only a pity they weren't inside that church when we struck the match.
We haunted the woods after that, travelled the back roads in stolen cars, read us the bible from end to beginning until we were as eloquent as Cain, who we thought of as a kind of papa. We dreamed in fire and slept on straw, to live is to fly as the great Townes van Zandt once said, along with "living is mainly wasting time."
At age 12 we dug our first grave, and stretched out in it the corpse of a fella who thought to test our fidelity. At age 13 we fell into the city, and haunted the halls of a fleabag hotel built hard on the railroad tracks. We grew adept with a blade and had the smile of a wolf and we could recite the cracks in the ceilings of a hundred cheap rooms.
We've never had a drink and we've never had a cigarette, we've never had no woman neither. We're as pure as smoke and we were born to hang, like Jesus but with blood on our hands.