Thursday, January 6, 2011

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Animals rush out of the gates
And are surprised at what awaits.
They get put on my plate.
But if there’s more
They’re sold in the specialty store.
Sometimes a butler will bring you some
On a golden tray, the meat still red and barely numb.
You could read the menu or just take a seat,
Three times-a-day we serve heaping stacks of meat.

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