Polishing my exteriors to a smooth finish,
You chose to make small lumps out of me
And now you use these as paper-weights
A black basaltic rock I am.
Making a rounded wheel from me
You put me into a machine
Now you grind wheat and grains by turning me –
A black basaltic rock I am.
Breaking me into small rounded stones
You made holes through me and strung us all up
To wear the ornament around your neck,
A black basaltic rock I am.
Picking me up from road-sides,
You threw me at others, rioting and injuring,
Covering me with your sins,
A black basaltic rock I am.
Carving a statue out of my substance
And anointing me with colours diverse
You have begun to worship me!
A black basaltic rock I am.
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