Originaltext
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From the pasture to the small town
Where the abattoir stands
There lurks the slaughterer
And he's got blood on his hands
Off to the supermarket
Bits of animal to buy
They die
Need to say
When we ask why?
Who profits?
The farmer, the slaughterer, the butcher
The cunts
Would you eat if it you had to kill it [x4]
