Don’t Look

Don’t look
We hear some women say
They drove a truck
Around today
On its sides a film displayed
Pigs being gassed
On all was laid

The bacon scoffers
The pigs in blankets
The spare rib tribe
Pork sausage crumpets
Frightened stressed out mothers
We
Watched them perish
frantically

don’t watch a mother says aloud
Just another from the crowd
What will she be feeding
Her son today
Pork sausages
That taste okay

With lots of ketchup
A chemical bun
This is how she feeds her son
Tortured all their Very short span
Of life, it seems then in the pan
In animals intestines
With nitrates they
End in our guts
Some every day

The truck it caused
a massive scare
People didn’t want to stare
The awful noises that dying pigs make
Behind closed doors
it’s give and take

They try to refuse to give their lives
We take it though
We sharpen our knives
Into the casings push the meat
Fried in fat life is complete
Dead from the neck up buyers who
Don’t look at our truck
Maybe it’s YOU.