Whatelse can say, What can I do? When a barrel of a gun Is shoved into the neck of my agony. Do I cry for bread, Or do I cry for freedom? From ugly minds whose belly is hell? Am I any special? Or am I, at least, human? To tread like a cow for their pockets, As they milk my degrees? They eat the meat of my wage. Their beef with me, like wolves, Sits in the plates of their children. Do I die with grief, Or do I live with love? To depart with an everlasting smile, Loving them still, Loving the color of my blood.