by John Domenic

Let's take a ride to the drive-thru

Eat some tasty burgers and fries

A bucket of grease inside you

You'd better be ready to die

Chew on a sandwich of gammon

Take a bite of helpless cattle

Whose end so bitterly tragic

The very first day of travel

Slaughtered, sliced, dissected, reformed

To what can barely be called meat

What kind of sad day has been born

We don't even know what we eat

They get massive, tortured cash flows

We get acid poured down our throats

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