Francis didn't give a [bad word] about the rollbacks.
Overproduction, reduced demand.
Never gave much thought to disputed contracts.
In his short life, he'd only ever known...

Panic, fear, pain, darkness, pandemonium,
In this [bad word] that was his home and...

Fourth-quarter earning expectations,
Expedited their demise.
The panic grew as the humans stalked among them.

When the screaming began, 
Francis shut his eyes and felt the hand
Of inhumanity [bad word] over him, but...

His would-be killer's back turned for a moment.
blinding ray of light spread across the floor.
In a crimson pool, he saw his own reflection,
As he bolted for the door.

Not just some fractured fairy-tale
Although I wish that that were [bad word] 
This is a fable far too real.
{Yet} we somehow still cling to 

The story lines that bridge the chasms
Between cognition and belief.
Any old implausible denial
That might offer some relief...

From the dissonance that Francis
Left screaming in his wake.
Deep into the heart of the city's park lands,
He made good his escape.

And where, for five months, he ran free
And replayed his only fond memory.
Just a warm and distant dream of...

His mother's loving eyes upon him.
Francis made it farther than she did.
quarter mile just short of the city limits, 
They finally captured him.

And there's a statue that the abattoir erected
To remind us of all their contributions.
To me it marks Potemkin City Limits, 
This Francis cast in bronze. 

Turn around I’m gone.

Not just some fractured fairy-tale,
Although I wish that that were [bad word] 
fable far too real,
We somehow still cling to...