Miami Sea Aquarium.

The regression of the innocent
Is played out with captured souls
Their total deprivation
And destruction of their goals
The amazing living ocean
Has everything for they
Have that total vibrance
Every single day
But torn from all the magic
And thrust into a tank
A lifeless prison structure
For them its truly rank

The pollution buildup gets to them
Its their own pollution too
The chemical cleaning agents
That upset them which they do
The lights the human interface
The lack of life it all
Affects their true vivacity
And gradually they fall
Into such a stupor
Depression kicks in fast
There is no future for them
Their die appears just cast

Their food is given to them
No foraging no hunting nothing they
Get nothing that is living its all dead
And they do pay
Its an arrogant suggestion that human beings make
Imagining a wild one really wants to take
What they want for their actual meals
Not a bucket full of slime
A sterile place to live in
Alas for all of time

They deteriorate they go down hill
They suffer from their core
Suppurate and fester
Like they seldom did before
They self mutilate self harm and suffer
Trauma they are sore
Lesions and abrasions
That can turn to blood and gore
And they don’t have their own remedies
Their macrobiotic stuff
Their instinctive medicines
There just is not enough

Its man who feels his remedies
Are the only ones that will
Restore the wild ones properly
But in fact they often kill to take
There is no panacea for the dolphin
Only they
Really know what medicine
That works along the way

Peta saw at Miami the dolphins
Clearly they
Are so damned unhappy
They bash themselves each
day
I mean they are all prisoners
Of our sick regime
We take them out of context
And we introduce a dream
A nightmare of existence
Our evil through and through
And what do they expect to get
What else can they do

We neglect their naturalness
We think we train them to
Do our stupid silly tricks
To last their whole lives through
But of course its so depressing
With their complex brAins they
Run rings around our bloody tricks
And for all of that they pay

And so self harm is on the table
That is and what they do
Its a bloody curse for them
And it isn’t new
We turn a blind eye to it
For they are our cash cows
They provide the profit
Which clearly then allows

Us to then neglect them
Forget them put them down
Let them bloody suffer
We really go to town
Its all about the balance sheet
Its not about their health
And of course they are going bonkers
Providing us with wealth

copyright.