Women in my family draw blood from their veins when the world is thirsty.
They cry a river and wash the people's clothes.
Their skin is the leather they sit on.
But the world gives nothing in return.
They breathe in carbon dioxide and give them oxygen because these women, all they know is to serve.
Their fingers have glittery precious chains.
This prison they live in their parents got wealth for.
But the world gives nothing in return.

For generations and generations, they are not tired.
And the world never, not even once, give something in return.