Sweat sweeten our soul,
In it we derive our living,
We have no money,
Yet we leak honey.
Mansion we could not build,
But peaceful we sleep beneath our hut,
Our desire seems not to be our priority,
Only what we see seems to be.
Our power make your power,
Later when you get to the tower,
You view us extremely lower,
We are nothing but the poor.
One day happiness will tore our cheek apart,
One day we will monopolise the mantle only to us,
One day voice of voiceless will be heard,
One day cripple will work,
One day fortune will smile on us.
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