Run the blade across another throat
one more life ends on the cold hard floor
dead in the blood of countless others
just another number on an unending list
dead and on it's way to market
dead and on it's way to make a profit
straight from the slaughterhouse
to our dinner plates
to feed our mindless consumption
to feed our heartless demands
one more murder for one more meal
and from behind a million closed doors
we cannot see the hell we have created
