Fur is far from glamorous

Traps put out for wild ones
must get into their psyche
The withered vile and rotten sods
The troll like wandering pikey
Who leave their traps about the place
hidden in the leaves
nobody can see them there
which is how it achieves
its vile result
clamping tight on legs of skin and bone
the energy, the blood, the lymph
of the victim on its own

all the strength it ever had
it so did violate
and leave a soul completely lost
to wonder at its fate
we go about our business
we live where we were born
here right here is our heritage
and we’re treated with such scorn
by some vile smelly trapper
with little in his heart
with a head as hard as
the sandstone rocks
pulling his rusty cart

full of other wild one’s
who also ambled by
and found his traps
and the jaw that saps
our life force from on high
Each time we move
our flesh is torn
we shake with shock and awe
tortured we cannot continue
everywhere is sore
hot and cold the feeling
frightened of what they
the pikey wants to do with us
as in his cart we lay
his calloused hands his warty face
his evil lumbering form
a hammer now he raises
and like a violent storm
brings it down upon us
until our eyes can’t see
and then we’re skinned
whilst still alive
to endure more agony
drowning in our own blood
that now begins to seep
little crimson rivulets
of blood as eyes do peep
over us from others
as wretched odours rise
Death why can’t it hurry up
and speed up our demise

Back to the vast fur farms
where cages fill each space
wild one’s going crazy
all around the place
biting at each other
biting at the bars
banging heads against the doors
and probably seeing stars
carnivores sad tendencies
unlocked and swept along
with the vile depraved
creation which clearly
was so wrong
no water in our troughs to drink
and very little food
left out in the wind and rain
these bastards are so crude

a heartless band of cretins
inequitable and sick
apprenticeships with Satan
they never missed a trick
every evil dirty moment
drawn from Hell so deep
that is where they leave
us and there’s no respite with sleep
in these dirty sodden cages
in our excrement we lie
its maddening to suffer so
and a pitiful way to die
maggot ridden wounds
pus filled and suppurating
eyes caked up with muck and sleep
all of us left waiting

for death to come a’ wielding
his sickle, then we know
we’ll die before the farmer
strips us clean, before the glow
of death creates the agony
the last throes of our life
we close our eyes and realise
tis the end of all our strife
the gaunt and shallow faces
the evil sunken eyes
can now all be forgotten
as we drift into the skies
We must be off to heaven
away from all this sin
this torture and this horror
And we leave without our skin

The unfortunate still living
when their time comes around
pulled out of their hell holes
and forced down on the ground
a poker stuffed into their arse
electrocuted there
the agony must be, immense
for their eternal stare
each one has that sickening look
that final thrust had clearly took
every ounce of joy away
and misery was there to stay

the price of skins
for each tortured soul
the animals and the workers role
a youngish mother with a child
is suffering from a sickness wild
a ailment for she splutters so
and coughs up blood
which we all know
is from the toxic’s that she uses
clearly this process abuses
all the people in this place
death and dying and disgrace
the price that fur hags
pay to wear
what is a sacrifice all share
all this putrefying skin
the toxic chemicals within
Fur is sacred only when
its on the animal, and then
as long as they can live and be
wild and safe and truly free