Dirty hands

Dirty hands and dirty faces, it’ll cost us dear to wash the traces

Of work from our hands, of mud from our shoes,

We pay to work, we work to lose.

In union we stand against the charge of the tide, it’ll run to a trickle if we don’t abide

By the power that comes down from too high to see,

In the green land where only our rivers run free.

 

So close down the pools now they’re too dear to fill, and build some more prisons to break down the will

Of the ones who refuse to swallow what they’re told

Or buy back their dignity, stolen and sold

How can we swallow? Our mouths are too dry, to chew on the ash that remains of the lie,

The ash in our mouths, the promises broke, the flow of our words, stifled and choked.

 

The goodness and bountiful flows by as we stand, along it’s paved golden banks, right to the hand

Of our brother, our jailer, the root of our pain,

We must stand against you, we are Abel, you are Cain.

Droplets of water won’t quench the fire, growing stronger and spreading by a nation’s ire

Under the yoke of a chosen oppressor, our choice

It’s time to find solace in finding our voice.

 

This is the last straw that broke our indifference,

As the last wall presses our backs with imminence.

This is the last drop that made the cup overflow

For blood is cheaper than water by now…