Names on the Cuts

[Title: Names on the Cuts] [Intro] He asked for names like the dead owed him paperwork. Kristof brought names. Yamah Freeman. Gbessey Kiadu. Ibrahim Koroma. Achol Deng. Now what? [Verse 1] You asked for names? Here come the names. Not numbers in fog. Not ghosts in claims. Yamah died bleeding while the road stayed long. Ambulance fuel cut. Now the mother gone. Gbessey was one. Malaria came. Medicine missing and the cut had a name. Ibrahim, infant, AIDS in his blood. HIV supply chain buried in mud. Achol, eight years old, medicine line broke. Health worker cut. Then the silence spoke. No, you ain’t stand there blocking the door. You backed the machine that ripped out the floor. [Backup // source chant] Kristof named them. Reuters framed them. Cuts got teeth. Death came with them. [Chorus] Cut the fuel. Cut the meds. Cut the worker. Count the dead. Cut the clinic. Cut the chain. Then ask for names like graves explain. That ain’t efficiency. That’s blood on a graph. Billionaire smirk with a body-count laugh. He asked for names. The names came through. Now tell the dead what the cuts didn’t do. [Verse 2] Eighty-three percent. Say it loud. USAID gutted. Programs cut down. Five thousand two hundred contracts gone. Rubio said review. DOGE sang along. You called it waste. They called it savings. Villages felt it in fever and cravings. No diesel. No doctor. No antimalarial. No HIV meds. Now the math gets burial. You don’t need bullets when budgets can kill. You don’t need chains when the pipeline stills. You don’t need bombs when the clinic goes dark. You just sign the cut and call death a spark. [Backup // source chant] Reuters: eighty-three. Five-two hundred gone. UNAIDS warning. Death count long. [Chorus] Cut the fuel. Cut the meds. Cut the worker. Count the dead. Cut the clinic. Cut the chain. Then ask for names like graves explain. That ain’t efficiency. That’s blood on a graph. Billionaire smirk with a body-count laugh. He asked for names. The names came through. Now tell the dead what the cuts didn’t do. [Verse 3] UNAIDS said listen: six point six million infections. Four point two million AIDS deaths from broken protections. Three hundred thousand children in the shadow of the blade. But Elon wants one name like the rest ain’t weighed. Lancet said fourteen million by twenty-thirty if it keeps. Four point five million kids under five in the deep. CGD did numbers HIV, malaria, TB. Nearly one million deaths from the cuts they see. This ain’t “prove every corpse” in a courtroom frame. This is cause-and-effect with blood in its name. Cut lifelines fast then deny the fall? That’s not skepticism. That’s evil with walls. [Backup // source chant] UNAIDS: four point two. Lancet: fourteen. CGD: near one million. This machine obscene. [Bridge] Careful claim: he didn’t kill them with his hands. Harder truth: he backed the cuts that broke the lands. Fuel stops. Meds stop. Workers gone. Then the rich man says: name one. Motherfucker, they did. [Verse 4] He asked for names like pain needs a form. Like a dead child’s proof needs a billionaire’s norm. Like grief needs spreadsheets and mothers need charts. Like the grave should submit supporting remarks. You wanted austerity with a rocket-man grin. Now the bodies show up and you don’t let them in. You made the cut holy. You made cruelty lean. You made death look fake on a glowing screen. But names got weight. Stats got knives. The model counts futures. The village counts lives. You can’t meme your way past the coffin lid. You asked for names. They named the kids. [Final Chorus] Cut the fuel. Cut the meds. Cut the worker. Count the dead. Cut the clinic. Cut the chain. Then ask for names like graves explain. That ain’t efficiency. That’s blood on a graph. Billionaire smirk with a body-count laugh. He asked for names. The names came through. Now tell the dead what the cuts didn’t do. [Outro] Reuters brought cuts. UNAIDS brought death. Lancet brought millions. Kristof brought breath. Names on the cuts. Blood on the math. The dead don’t owe a billionaire jack.