We resign to the fact that lives will be lost
To satisfy cravings, no matter the cost
The voiceless will die,
No screams to be heard
Though the horror goes on,
Few people care
Grown for our pleasure
Tweaked for good measure
Slaughtered at leisure
For a culinary treasure
Who said it was right to create life to take it?
To slit the lamb's throat to grill fry or bake it?
Take newborns from mothers,
Slaughter cows whilst with baby?
All for the sake of sausage and gravy!
Grown for our pleasure
Tweaked for good measure
Slaughtered at leisure
For a culinary treasure
Watch the beast struggle
Whilst it's throat's being slit
Improperly stunned,
Struggling,
In agonizing pain,
Falling into the blood pit.
Thrown live into the scalding tank,
Soon this pain must cease
Poor innocent,
Never caused harm,
On her vile path to everlasting peace
Grown for our pleasure
Tweaked for good measure
Slaughtered at leisure
For a culinary treasure
Maybe they haven't died in vain
Some good may come from all this pain...
Might end up in a recipe!
Monday, 6 August 2007
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