K. Red sea

Pasture Meadow battery house
The hands that breed us
Are the hands that feed us
And then they deceive us

They take me to the House of slaughter
And hang me on my sacrificial alter
But in his eyes he wants no more
Blood guts and all the call gore.

How can he be sorry
At his hands I do depart
Has the butcher
Got a heart

The lament stains his eyes
And blisters his Soul
And he rings the bell
It's my death knell

Up over the red sea
The pain seeps from my veins
And my senses turn blind
And I look back
With abhor for mankind.