My first hunting trip was quite eventful: I must’ve been about 5 or 6. An essential rite of passage for those consigned here with a dick. Shot size 5 was recommended for a clean efficient kill. They laughed as I cried and stroked his blood-soaked iridescent quills. Don’t recall just how I got there. To the hatchery I mean. Stumbled through the bush on a field trip and there it stood in front of me. I stooped down upon the concrete pad to verify what I was seeing. The aftermath of stomping boots upon hundreds of tiny, helpless beings. Hello despair and booze-fueled rage! How do you do, my gilded cage? Stupid chick on the conveyor belt staring at her severed foot. Stupid pig despairing at the sight of his companion on a hook. You ever see that stupid cow chasing the truck that drove off with her calf? Stupid lower order always good for a good laugh. Debarked. Declawed. Defanged. Dehorned. Wings clipped. Toes cut. Branded. Teeth pulled. Farewell despair and booze-fueled rage. How do you do, soon-to-be-emptied cage?
Amazing album. So much raw passion and emotion packed into one LP. After hearing Mother a few years ago, they really caught my attention. I vibe with their thoughts on society and the state of the world. Fighting back against the broken system we all live in. Finding joy in the few ways we all can.
My favorite songs are:
Ne Touche Pas Moi
A Hymn gregymon