GRESSINGHAM killers of feathered angels

Gressingham Ducks
8 millions souls
Are dispatched to Heaven
Each in their roles
Their sacredness ending
As blue coated sods
As the RED TRACTOR rumbles
We pray to our gods
As ducks from the waters edge
We can proclaim
This slaughterhouse
You now know it by name
Its a terribly dark evil
Shit hole and we
In all honesty pray hard
That we can be free

Mankind yes they call themselves kind
What a sin
Employing these robotic arse oles
The din
It comes from machinery and from their gobs
We victims remain quiet
Though one or two sobs

Are heard by the sensitives
But here there are few
Most are just demons
Who live their lives through
Who profit from death
From torture and pain
Who look into our eyes
Again and again

But they only see
Nothing at all
But we see their hearts
Dried and withered
Their call
Expletives they use
Abusers they be
At Gressingham Suffolk
So much misery

The bloody red tractors
Supposedly say
That the farms where we came from
Are heavenly, they
Lie through their back teeth
Their sore eyes alas
Don’t see the agony
We feel enmasse

Onwards and upwards
Alive and on show
Frightened to bits
Hung up on a flow
Of birds Knowing woefully
They will soon be
Sent to the market
For people to see

The foul scent of death
It hangs in the air
We share others blood
It just goes everywhere
We do have hearts
We do have souls
We do have thought
Individual roles

Yes we are birds
Made by your same God
Most live and die
Alone on our tod
Unloved disrespected
And murdered like this
Into the scald tank
Yes humans bliss

At roasting our corpses
And our rotting meat
8 million souls wasted
Creating your treat
For you human carnivores
Wondering why
After eating our bodies
You just need to lie

Down feeling sick
Well perhaps now you will
Realise why you are feeling
So ill
Inside your intestines
The woeful remains
Of beautiful souls
And god went to great pains

To create the miracle
Of life and you
Took upon yourselves
To do what you do
Gressingham yea
it rolls off the tongue
Each time you hear it
Remember we are hung

Tortured and left
To die in this way
And Watch out the red tractor
Yes they display
Its stands for something
Though god knows what it be
We think and we feel
and we love constantly

We have relations we love to be
Alive in the water of life
Believe me
8 million sensitives
Murdered a flood
Of spirit of caring
Of our vital blood
That runs down the walls
And into the drain
Making more and more of you
Completely insane