From morn are at work the grass cutters
Clearing the weeds to make way for men
In the wind I catch their mumbled chatters
Of lives deemed wasted in no gain.
*Had my parents had enough money
I would not have been here cutting grass
But worked at some big company
Earn enough to live with full purse.
But you know I can’t blame them
They had to spend last bit on food
Fended for years gave me a name
Saw that I grew up to manhood.
As soon was born some sense in me
The feel to realize my debt
I searched for way to earn some money
And here I am with my fate.
But now I know must do my best
In the hope that only matters
To see his life doesn’t go waste
My son becomes never a grass cutter.*