It goes without saying
Though most, are now playing
Into the hands of the few
The Factory Farms
With their Corporate charms
But very few know what they do
The animals must
Be in utter disgust
Their lives have just
been shot away
Habitat loss
Dietary loss
And cruelty too everyday
Many will not get to market
They will die long before
that comes round
Piglets shocked after their
tails are pulled off
Will die before they hit
the ground
Calves will be stolen
From Mother, who
Will cry out
For thats what they do
A maternal bond
exists clearly here
But emotions and profits
don't mix, that is clear
Veal calves are kept
In the tiniest stall
They cannot stand up
or move much at all
Tethered, by a chain
from the neck
oh! such strife
And that is their lot
for their 4 months
of Life.
Ungulates needing
to chew on the cud
rumination salvation
but for them,its a dud
they are fed on
a milky mash so as to make
Their flesh colour pale
And all naturalness take
A backseat alas
These poor wretched souls
They must die in great fear
Subjected to controls
Chickens the male chicks
flashes of gold
ground up alive
for they cannot be sold
The rest thrust in batteries
cramped to a mash
with light all the time
Living in their own trash
On wire floors that torment
their poor little feet
Most mentally challenged
by closeness and heat
Its a hell of a life
A Commodity they
will be in abject fear
Till their dying day
Ducks, Turkeys, Geese
treated poorly as well
with all sorts of chemical
portions that spell
out a rich blueprint
for profit and gain
underwritten by Terror
by great stress and pain
Cows the same treatment
soya and meal
They don't feel the sun
on their backs
the appeal
of a vast concrete shed
with no fresh air at all
Standing in their shit
drives them up the wall
By the time allocation
says they have to die
Many are lame, their muscles belie
they can't hold themselves up
Downers, they've become
so its eye gouging, arse kicking
torture for some
Factory Farms are
now Hell all the way
and the waste thats created
really, everyday
It is left, and untreated and
oceans exist Co2/nitrous oxide
a factor to lift the loss
to extremes
Degradation of soil
Pollution of water
and Air, so much toil
needed to re use
this tremendous pile
Till it has been worked
it pollutes all the while

At the point, of sale
The marketing men
air brushes out, rural
scenes and the pen
expounds the great wisdom
of green fields
and sky
Of sweet happy hens
putting slugs in their pie
Of wild flowers and
cocks crowing out on the fence
And the whole rural story
making such sense

In effect its all fiction
Malediction in fact
These creatures of habit
How do they react
At the slaughtering stage
In the Abbatoir bright
As the slaughterman
slices their jugular right
and their blood drains away
through their eyes still they see
And their ears can still hear
the laughter that be
exchanged by the men
the warriors who
without any respect
do what they must do.