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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 dont want to die You try to stroke me in a field then go home And eat me as your meal