Who really are the pests
Out in Australia
Killing feeding Roo’s
In car lights they
Harvesting they call it
All sanitised tis said
Dressing that is removing heads and tails
From the poor dead
For the flesh eating Aussies
It don’t appeal to me
Ok I am vegan
And its herbivores I see
They Get my due respect too
Out there in the bush
Feeding at night
Blinded by the shooters truck
And his shaft of light

They eat grass
They have babies on board
As shooters know
Up to a hundred yards away
Head shots in that glow
No female not with babies
But with no one else about
Jaw shots females massacred
And joeys without a doubt

What do they do with the infant
Tear its head off, they
Smash it on the bull bars
Imagine that, and say
You are just alright with that
Bloody infanticide
Scant respect for wildness
And when asked, its denied

120,000 females suffer
Every year
jaw shots flesh wounds
Hopping limping agony
Its clear
They are protected fauna
Nurturing mothers who
Try to love their babies
With gaping wounds, they do

All self absorbed
The incompetence
Their victims bleed and feel
The same pain as we would
The stresses they are real
3000 odd poor joeys
Executed by
The scumbags whose lack of empathy
Is really just sky high

Again I ask who really are
The pests around the place
Beautiful natural herbivores
Who move with utter grace
Who ruminate in darkness
And are then shot down and killed
It is a desecration
The innocent blood thats spilled

And the grey suits
Sit in government
And some property owners they
Couldn’t give a monkeys
Of the contemptible display
The carcass dressed the head cut off
And left to eye the sky
The tail cut off
A battle field of evil
Thats no lie

Cant you see the wrongness
The impropriety
The unjustifiability
Its an outrage
Those who see
The various parts
All scattered
Its objectionable for they
Were mothers feeding babies
And its all seen as ok

As for the police
Its evidence
Its was done at night
Private shooters go unchecked
And everyone is right
Except the poor old Kangaroo’s
They are always wrong
But it is unforgivable
And just does not belong

Sitting in a bloody truck
Killing them like flies
Some hop off all bloodied
Lows and lots of highs
Killing the National symbol
Codes of Practice yea
No female only head shots
But no shooter is fair

They are all a bunch of scumbags
They have no gratitude
For wild life and the environment
In a most unfeeling mood
All they want is their pound of flesh
They just turn a deaf ear
To The screams the cries
As a mother dies
In what is her cloud of fear

kangaroo mothers they nurture
They have feeling for their brood
They are are out there after fresh green shoots
Killing them is crude
They are nothing but scoundrels
A scourge on the human race
Letting down humanity
With their ugly face

The meat trade is the killing trade
Murder is the word
They are petty tyrants
They remind me of a turd
Dried up damn their haughtiness
Its misogyny
Its the sort of spirit
They throw off constantly

Big men behind a rifle
Sat inside their truck
Picking mothers off like flies
They do not give a fcuk
Head shots females o one cares
Slaughter them at will
And not a gram of feeling
Inside their heads just swill

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