I can’t live in this world, Nothing but violence and fear. I’m so out of place, There’s nothing for me here.
My label is “weak or weird.” But darling my compassion is strong. I can’t hurt anyone or thing, How is that wrong?
It maybe a meal to you, But it’s a murder to me, Yet I’m extreme, Letting them live free.
I’m so sick of being judged, By the murders and partakers alike. How is it foolish of me, To not kill for an appetite.
Many of you will not agree, And I don’t really care. I just don’t belong in evil. Give me fresh air.
Take me out to pasture, Then sell me for the highest bid. Stuff me in a truck, With others who strive to live.
Send me to the slaughter, I’ll anxiously wait in line. Hearing cries before me, Till it becomes my time.
I’ll be shot in the head, Before I am killed. They say, “I won’t feel a thing.” But I will as the act is fulfilled.
They will laugh at me, Hit and abuse me too. Then the blade will kiss my neck, All my blood will rush through.
I’m willing to stand in that line, To go through what they do. They can’t sacrifice, But I will for them not you.
I may not be there kind, But I’m no better then he or she. And here I’ll wait to feed you, I hope you enjoy me. |