Sick Butchers - Flux of Pink Indians

I used to graze in a field

I used to breathe — I used to be alive

Did chew the grass in the field

Could see and hear the world around me

See and fear man around me

Had a virgin skin but now sold in supermarkets

Now studded blankets

Used to hear the cars and the birds going by

And the people going by, they were my destiny

They were my reason, my purpose in this field

For their plates their cold bodies their car seat covers

My soul for your soles of shoes

You may like my taste you may like my warmth

It may say in the bible that you can kill me

…but I don’t want to die

You try to stroke me in a field then go home

And eat me as your meal