A mobile prison with tiny slats
\nyou can see the world pass by
\nthe smoke and concrete and exhaust fumes
\nblind the tearful eye
\nshipped like bales of paper
\nreally wedged in tight
\nbut we are living animals!
\nwe try with all our might<\/p>\n
to breathe to wrestle with each other
\njust to stand upright
\nour legs are buckled over
\nour hearts are aching so
\nour eyes are seeing smoke and dust
\nand no one wants to know<\/p>\n
no water and no food for us
\njust stale air and tossed about
\nwhere the hell are we going to
\nthe docks are hear some shout
\na ship lies in the berth and we
\nwe’re herded off its on the sea
\n3 more hours maybe until
\nan abattoir and perhaps the knife
\nslashed throats, and we’re still
\nfrom the farmers who
\ntell the world their love for us is true
\noh yea!they do love money
\nbut us, thats not our view
\nthat is all they do it for
\nevery one does pay
\nthe cattle die the sheep die too
\nthat is what they want from you
\nyour better dead than living profit that’s their way
\nfar removed from prophets
\nso evil every day<\/p>\n
Live exports that’s what they now call us
\nbut most of us will be
\ndead before we get there
\njust take that from me
\nand if we get to the slaughterhouse
\nthen it won’t be long
\na rusty knife will take our life
\nthat’s all, and its all wrong<\/p>\n
to be born as an animal
\nis crazy to be sure
\nthe agony is everyday
\nthe farmers just want more
\nthey beat us and they torture us
\nand feed us, on such crap
\nif only we could tell you what they
\ndo to us, they sap
\nwe come into this life of ours
\nbut it is never ours okay
\nevery single moment
\nthe shout at us and bash
\nlets us stand in our own poop
\nof course we get a rash
\nthen its antibiotics to help
\nincrease the weight
\nthen more kicks and more slaps around
\nuntil we get our date<\/p>\n
the shipment date
\nand then we know
\nits curtains we are gone
\nloaded on the prison truck
\nreally heaped upon
\neach other many many
\nare bruised and crippled by
\nthe rolling of the ship out on the waves
\nwhere some will die<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A mobile prison with tiny slats you can see the world pass by the smoke and concrete and exhaust fumes blind the tearful eye shipped like bales of paper really wedged in tight but we are living animals! we try … Continue reading