With my brains on the bike
I can't even think
In the morrow, I search for a bite
That job thing
In a town with much might
God-Fatherlessly searching
How can I sight?
That job thing
Knock on the office doors
Qu'est ce que vous voulez monsieur?
The Director
Le D.G n'est pas l'a monsieur.
My applications together I bore
Il n y a aucune place pour vous
N.W.R my names predict more
Qui est derriere vous?
A lone mind to work I wore
Fermez la porte derrière vous
Can't get a job
Tears running down cheeks
Part of this fatherland, am I?
With a bald, the intensity highly digs
Pain and hungry wonder I
Hoping for a click
'Be a man' bid my mind the will
Though the job couldn't stick
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem