To exist in a mist of confusion and chaos
\nWhere lovelessness comes and it goes
\nTo break through that shell from a given spell
\nWith this beak at the end of our nose
\nA chicken we be with a freedom to see
\nThe conveyor of life rolling free
\nWe are thrown by the hand born out of this land
\nInto an absurdity<\/p>\n
Futility ramps up the journey
\nWe sing with inglorious tones
\nWith The exaggeration of many
\nWho feel the life force in our bones
\nThe great revelation of being
\nOf seeing the realness of now
\nThe purity of the experience
\nOf wondering really just how<\/p>\n
Mankind could ever design this
\nThese great metal rollers so we
\nCould ride off to heaven an army of souls
\nDemonstrating our will to be free
\nUndisguised we are routed in different directions
\nHysteria surfaces and
\nThe shrieks are so loud that they deafen
\nAt the crossroads we can’t understand<\/p>\n
We anticipated an astonishing time
\nAnd some of us took that to be
\nDown the great chute back into the root
\nCausing our own catastrophe
\nGround up the pain of one moment
\nIn time a slush funded ordeal
\nFor once males were crushed and tragically brushed
\nOnto the great crushing wheel<\/p>\n
Feathers and all just the ghastliness pool
\nOf bodies and clouds of regret
\nA false dawn was had it all turn to bad
\nIll served and let down just a debt
\nIn the setback of life we were nothing
\nMeaningless fodder that’s all
\nTwaddling gibbering bundles of yellow
\nDown the great hatch we did fall<\/p>\n
The females were off to the cage lands
\nThey would be laying all day
\nPrisoners locked in such squalor
\nConcealed in a dirty wire tray
\nConfined in a cell with some others
\nDuped into thinking that they
\nWere living a life that a chicken should live
\nTill death with his sickle did play<\/p>\n
His part in their deaths and their memories
\nHung upside down on a wheel
\nThe great blade of death would tear off their heads
\nAnd the agony really was real
\nThere’s an urgency on the horizon
\nBound up with profits galore
\nAnd the cheap prices that keep us advancing
\nInto what is blood and gore<\/p>\n
We are the forever victims
\nThe chicks not for Easter for we
\nLost that true status now nobody rates us
\nIt’s all about taste tragically
\nOur verve and our sparkle is over
\nWe chickens are destined for pies
\nOur drive and our forcefulness lost to the world
\nwith you lot not hearing our cries<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
To exist in a mist of confusion and chaos Where lovelessness comes and it goes To break through that shell from a given spell With this beak at the end of our nose A chicken we be with a freedom … Continue reading