Moped deliveroo drivers, 

 

Uber eats bike riders,

 

Among thousands of diners is there a meal that's righteous? 

 

Protein pumped for profit,

 

You want it you got it,

 

A healthy gut would want to vomit from the crap you put upon it. 

 

Don't be a fool, 

 

Organic, free range is just a marketing tool, 

 

You only know it's fresh when she kicks you off the milking stool. 

 

It's the same old battery hen time and time again my friend,

 

So where does it end? 

 

What do we do?

 

The answers to which is why people call me a loon,

 

Fill the bucket in your face with a shoveling spoon. 

 

But just hear me out, I'll tell you what eating is really all about. 

 

I put the weights down in the evening,

 

Pick them up in the morning,

 

I heed the warning of viruses destroying.

 

My writing reflects my mind all of the time, 

 

The things I'm writing are frightening,

 

Makes you go deep within realising you need to control the tyrant,

 

For I alone cannot weather the storm weather or not im scorn, 

 

Torn, 

 

Apart, 

 

My heart bleeds for a new start,

 

Feel like blowing my brains against the wall and sell it as art, it's a fass,

 

And your starving,

 

The shit that you buy, you can grow in your garden,

 

The angels that should be guarding,

 

Got their heads in hands, no I beg your pardon,

 

Got their heads in the sand a fact that's really alarming.