Laborers Are Laborers Everywhere.. Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

If I have no fear of mortgage,
I can keep my head high,
To ask these oppressors a few,
Worthy questions to seek,
The answer for which they,
Know the reference pages,
But they slave me in numbers,
I am suppressed to address,
The dreams of few, my mind,
Is calm as the cold stew,
Traveling through the tubes,
The poor rats are out of sight,
The roads are for the rich,
The sky is for them to reach,
We tunnel day and night,
In the same circle and colored rounds,
The spines are bent,
Hands are shaken,
The will is broken,
We are the democrats,
We are equal,
The curtains are not drawn,
Fear is instilled,
Knowledge is imported,
The profit is needed,
The land is leased,
In the globalized village,
Money can make money,
Through the labor of you and me.