Stop it
They creep through the dawn mist, with clubs in their hands
Shattered sculls of the innocent, bloody the sands
Man’s weapon is keen but his expression is bland
He’s making a killing, isn’t he grand?
Oh isn’t he grand?
Chorus:
With nowhere to run and nowhere to hide
There is death on the beaches and blood on the tide
The fate of the seal is God’s to decide
Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! He cried.
Protest is met with contemptuous stares
Even cold seal blood is warmer than theirs
They butcher the pups but who the fuck cares?
The killing continues, has done for years
For too many years.
Chorus:
When oceans are empty and seals are no more
We’ll weigh up the cost of the industry whore
The blood of their sins will be laid at your door
These butchers from hell are too real to ignore.
Chorus: Repeat
Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! He cried
Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! He cried.