It Is the Chicken Skin Wounds

It is the chicken skin wounds by the nets every day for a bird in a cage hey, someone's gotta pay It is the situation expectation brokers seeing red so whip it out, mete it out on some calf's head It is the agonizing shrieks of a mother for a son missing milk of human kindness sold out for a different one It is the height of the bench and the weight of the bent twisted corpse of the sow dropping on the cement It is the dark, cramped cell where they're fed till they're freight ready flesh so the bones cannot lift their own weight It is the gun from the wall see the rounds be replaced from the vice for the head till the shot in the face It is the heart about to burst pounding terror in the eyes watching next in line in front of her another cries and dies It is the good tail grip to help her move down the track that will shine brown and bruised when the skin is torn back It is the stain on our hands from the marking of the beast wasn't there a verse on how you did it to the least?