Everyday I see those that are in Prison
I have to see them after I'm risen
They complain and want to be freed
They want their captors to suffer and bleed
Thousands of them are piled up in stores
As long as I see this my anger increases and soars
I can hear them calling to me, calling for help
They are weak little things, weak like a whelp
People come to the store and take these critters along
But at home, thrown out and forgotten, it feels so wrong
No one thinks to give them a second glance
I will spear those ignorant fools with my unicorn-lance
The time has come, time to challenge the first fool
With wide eyes she shrieks, the fear makes her drool
I tell her to suffer, suffer like the critters she ignores
But he just shows me, about the critters and the stores
She explains to me that this is just a plastic bag
I would never doubt wisdom from an old nag
After my thoughts clear I realize I am alone
But I will remember the helpful old crone
conclusion:
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