" Is it when we are gone"
They flow the river of wealth into their drums,
glow their city with wreath of diamond,
While we 'the good Samaritan rovers in the gutter of the abject destitute,
we live in the domicile of catastrophic poverty,
the street to our house is made of shattered bottle,
While theirs are painted with gold,
the hot pain we feel hurts our deepest sorrow,
this agony defined the sadness on our children's face,
What things shall we do?
we clamor for justice,
they gave us woe worse than injustice,
we yell our doleful tears at their heart screen,
they ignore our cries,
and neglect our perishing soul to dire,
for their Earth is heartless to realize,
that what runs within us is blood,
They eat plaintain chips,
while we hawk plaintain leaves to survive,
Our little children drink the bitter water of sand,
with the shapes of sorrow running through their belly,
and hopelessness discouraging faith to surrender,
While their kids taste the wine of sweet affluence,
with the cup of abundance booming with merry pleasure,
The hot pain we feel hurt our deepest sorrow,
even the sun laments with despondent shine,
with heat of weariness,
and your eyes pretend not to see our light of languish,
The Savior we choose has nailed us to the cross,
oh! our redeemer has left us in oblivion,
with this thorny crown of suffering,
we live each day crucified,
were we wrong to choose and believe in you?
When will you listen to our cries?
When! is it when we are gone?
