Leather

Why do we punish angels
Castigate and beat
Try to remove their innocence
Before we remove their feet
Hang them from the yard arm
Like a sack of shite
Make them shake with terror
And a greed and insatiable blight
maddened by high living
Rump steaks every day
Guzzling gorging licking ones lips
The epicurean way

Brazil has torn down forests
Has murdered wildness she
Sends the bull’s to Turkey
And to Lebanon where they be
Shipped in congested vessels
Across the raging sea
Not a shred of food or water
Starving actually

Tortured piled on top of each other
Fractures every hour
Shitting and peeing and bleeding
And seeing
All have lost the power
and the strength that they were born with
Angels everyone
All mixed up with undesirables
humans on the run

The meat trade is the murder trade
Halal the purists see
Throats cut through it’s what they do
And bleed incessantly
Screaming to the heavens
The butchers waiting game
renegades and recreates
Who just don’t know what shame

Is seeking unworldliness
Purity of heart
In a true unfallen state
Who honestly impart
A conscience that is oh so clean
Forgivable and right
They drag the lame
And then they claim
The spoils yes as a right

Leather is the skin
We all have but our irreverence
Is murdering for their dead flesh
It really makes no sense
The skin we call it leather
The boots the shoes the coats
It makes us really stand out
And their bleeding throats

Dripping squelching when we pace
The smell of blood and guts
Our sofa’s and our steering wheels
As we pass over ruts
Belts that hold our trousers up
Leather it’s their skin
The angels made it permeable
And we made it a sin

We feel we are superior
To the four legs that we eat
So why not wear their bloody skin
And make sure that the seat
We sit on is of leather
Our glorious handbags too
Some made out of our babies skin
Some from the unborn who

Never got to breathe fresh air
Or feel the wondrous sun
They were locked in their mother
Hopeful that the fun
Would come to them
But the slaughterhouse
And the slaughter men came first
They ripped open our mothers
You see they had a thirst

For the finest calves skin
For the wallets and the ties
streets of blood and seas of guts
So many of the lies
Hung up by one leg or two
throats cut from end to end
Leather if you wear it
You are, nobody’s friend