Shedding tears nights and days
How long will it last
The foetus in the womb
Lament of a great suffering

The hand refuse to feed the mouth
Yet the god of the throat keep calling
We shout and cry
Yet no avail

Work is as rare as gold
Jobless is of no difference
Workers have no return
We do expect them to be brought to book
But scot free they go soon

Fathers to be remain dependent
Mothers are sex object for money
Priority is elective
For an hungry man remains angry
What should be the reward for the working brain?
What to feed the moving hand?
Whom should be blame for?

We shout and cry again
Silent we keep in no time
Like night in the bottomless pit
When shall we be comforted

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