We Are The Living Graves Of Murdered Beasts
We are the living graves of murdered beasts
Slaughtered to satisfy our appetites
We never pause to wonder at our feasts
If animals, like men, can possibly
have rights
We pray on Sundays that we may have light
To guide our footsteps on the path we
tread
We're sick of war We do not want to
fight
The thought of it now fills our hearts with dread
And yet we gorge ourselves upon the dead
Like carrion crows we live a