Are we holy works of art ?
Or the kings of pretension ?
Why the hell should we decide
Who will get to live or die ?
Are we holy works of art ?
Or is that our own invention ?
To justify that we’d be meant
To decide which being should die ?

Why are we waging war
To the animal realm ?
And in a way we all are The abettors…

We got the world in our hands
We use that power to whelm
The tombs we have at our feet…
We’re the debtors…

Are we THE thinking animals
In this decline with many declensions ?
It could all be rectified
If we swore, you and I

To be the change.
Let’s realize
we are slaughtering our emotions !
Our bodies and the earth(’s) alike,
Share the same appetite !