The Springs

God’s forgotten children, we are
With masks on faces and guns on flare,
Blazing under the suns and shadows,
Of these machines and democracies.
Wretches and leaders, we are,
For those men of coal and hardware,
Betrayed by the unions and capitals,
We shall defy for our sprite and burials
One day will come when the sun’s,
On the west and the moon’s east.
One day will come our labour pays
Back the rebel inside and that’s just.
You may break into our cities,
We built from our faith and seed.
You may cripple our customs,
We weaved with silks of good.
You may make us stay indoors,
And Kill our children and blot our wives.
You may swindle our sweat,
And close the factories and estates.
You may coerce our homes,
And dreams to take hold of our oils.
Nevertheless you cannot burn,
The psyche of our communist grin.
God’s forgotten children, we are,
And we will order the end to this dire.

-Aroon Che