We are blessed; we all do know.
For mankind we grow and for all.
We are rich; God has made us this way.
In our humble arms grow sweet fruits.
You pluck them up at your own choice.
Any unwillingness we never show.

Alas! our arms you twist and cut them off.
Our fair skin you bruise; you pulverise.
Then ooze out scarlet droplets each time
Who do hear our cry, our severe pain?

Yes. We are trees; our golden days are gone.
No more we are cared, no more adored.

Don't **** us; we are life, good life for your life.
Don't **** us ; we have rights, our rights.