Open fields,
Fog in the morning air,
All the animals stand
and stare.
Farmers work,
Building walls,
Keeping the animals in
their wooden stalls.
Not conscious,
Unaware,
Locked away the animals
Don\'t care.
No freedom,
No choices,
No one to hear
Their voices.
Freedom lurks,
On the rind,
It is something the animals
Must find.
Together,
But alone,
The animals still believe
They are home.