PIlls and potions 12

Medication every day
Sea World wants to make them pay
Calm them down and testosterone
Insists that their wild oats are left unsown
Aggression its a problem for
the male orca’s thats for sure
Pent up emotions do become
Really like an ocean drum

Antipsychotics everyday
These are cetaceans let me say
Who gives you the right to be
Judge and jury please tell me
Tagamet for ulceration
Orca’s suffer their salvation
Not in your hands Sea World they
Must be sick and tired of you today

Not only captured and in a cell
And drugged up to the eyeballs,well
Also expected to do sad tricks
And fed on dead fish for the fix
Dead fish doesn’t make them feel
In anyway alive and real
They get it slung into their face
Which gives them ulcers at a pace

No chance to chew its swallowed down
No chance to taste they go to town
No pleasure eating in this way
When food is thrown its wrong I say
How would you like it if I do
Chuck a piece of bread at you
Would you catch it would you think
It would keep you in the pink

I cant imagine less empathy
Than a bucket of dead fish chucked at me
No time to chew or savour it
It really is just so much shit
No respect for a creature
Who
expects his bread and butter too
I regret that SEA WORLD thinks
Fish is better when it stinks

Nothing alive inside the tank
Just dreary stuffy leaden rank
Monotonous and tiresome stuff
Surely most have had enough
When all the brilliance of the sea
The corals and the fishes we
Catch because thats what we do
And Not have it chucked at us by you