TO A NATION OF ANIMAL LOVERS
I'm walking through the grey walkways of the city
And through the brighty lit shops and supermarkets
And I'm walking through the fields of the innocent
Passing by the fairytale farm
Balancing on the brittle edge of a short life
That is ended by the knife.
As I'm gazing at the baneful products
And from behind the bright colours and false smiles
I can smell the lingering death
And see the decaying skins
Forth from the green grass
The purigent smell of decomposing meat
That penetrates the walls of the kitchen
And front the red lorries on the black
In unison with the red lights and the red juice.
The Sunday kitchen spills out the stench of the abattoir
The butcher's blade glistening in the eye of the "master"
The deadened life of a baby sits upon the plate
The spilt guts falling from the chute to the basting tin
The carcass from the carcrash
In the edge of the train-direct from the gates of Sobivor.
nihilistic nobody. 9.11.81. mortarhate incorporate.