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
lives resting on what you do
Terrified they watch as another dies
what if through glass, you locked eyes?
Now it's your dinner's turn - what do you say
as he struggles for life - to get away
You can hear his agonizing bellow
as his head takes the final blow
He's lifted by a single chain
just for your taste -- sound insane?
His throat is sliced and he's bled
disembowelment is straight ahead
Your food's true cost, becoming clear
as dinner time draws near
You sit in front of your plate
after witnessing such a brutal fate
A blood stained and shocking sight
would it ruin your appetite?
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