A Day No Pigs Would Die

Gentle, were the hands of the butcher, another day of work for him, as he wields death with precision. The pig's soul is dead and gone, for the body there's still work to be done, but it's just another day for him. We're so disconnected from what we eat, and it's removed so we can't see, to affect the way we feel. Money plants the seed, on indifference it breeds, so greedy mouths can feed. But I feel we have a responsibility, to speak out for those that are unable to. And I dream, we dream, that one day, we'll see a day, no pigs would die. We need to think about what we eat.