Toiling away
To live is to work
till death
heads down obediently
What better sound
then that of the evening whistle blow
a body drop
a new opening
a job to be done
a meal on the table
No talking now
In the factories
In the streets
In our homes
We are all slaves
to our homeland
our protectors
the government
and our empty stomachs
selfishly crying out for more
A harsh truth we tell
Our legacy we carry on
only to be remembered as workers
in life
but worthless
in death