Propagandhi Song Lyrics

Artist: Propagandhi
Song: Meat is Still Murder
Album: Nailing Descartes to the Wall

Stop Consuming Animals!

I speak outside what is recognized as the border between "reason" and "insanity."
But I consider it a measure of my humanity to be written off by the living graves of a billion murdered lives.
And I'm not ashamed of my recurring dreams about me and a gun and a different species of carnage strewn about the stockyard, factories, the farm.
Still I know as well as anyone it does less good than harm to be honest with a conscience eased by lies. But you cannot deny that…

Meat is still murder. Dairy is still rape.
And I am still as stupid as anyone, but I know my mistakes.
And I have recognized one form of oppression, now I recognize the rest.
Life’s too short to make others shorter.

Artist: Propagandhi
Song: Purina Hall of Fame
Album: Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes / Also on: Liberation - Songs to Benefit PETA

[Spoken narrative over the sound of workers yelling and beating a screaming pig obviously reeling in pain]
Here, farm workers are attempting to remove a lame sow. They know she can’t walk; her legs are caught in the bars of the surrounding pens. They beat her, dance and spit on her, and kick her in the face for nearly an hour.

Sleeping masters roused to burning homes from beds.
Steeping toddlers plucked from their watery deaths.
Ribbons, plaques and soft-soap are the ephemeral rewards paid to the slaves whose selfless acts accord a higher value to their masters, (these parting gifts) and bolt pistols (console the rest) await the remainder.
Too bad the tributes paid to lives that relegate these thrones to lives spent valuing the runners-up are known, to be neither fleeting nor desirable, but nothing surprises me these days.
I just sit and watch the box-cars roll by and wait.
Patient, unattended. So patient, so unattended.
A package under a terminal bench and a short fuse to scatter steady hands forget to remember that better lives have been lived in (these parting gifts) the margins and (console the rest) locked in the prisons and lost on the gallows than have ever been enshrined in palaces.
(It’s not your fault, there’s nothing you can do, it’s just the way it is, there’s nothing we can do)

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Posted/Updated: 7/27/03