If slaughterhouses had a glass wall
and you had to see your dinner fall
Would you still eat with no concern
or from it would you learn?
Whose flesh should be in your bun
could you point and choose which one?
They’re trapped in line to die for you
a life resting on what you do
Terrified they watch as another dies
what if through glass you locked eyes?
Now its your dinner’s turn - what do you say
as he struggles for life to get away?
You hear his agonizing bellow
as his head takes a second blow
He’s lifted by a single chain
just for taste - sound insane?
His throat is slit and he’s bled
dismemberment is straight ahead
Your food’s true cost becoming clear
as dinnertime is drawing near
You sit in front of your plate
after witnessing this brutal fate
A blood stained and stocking sight
would it ruin your appetite?
