What they call me, I am a tribal.
Lacking in knowledge and not desirable.
I live in open without the walls,
Feed on things which nature gives to all.
I owe the lands open and fertile,
Nourished by nature, young and juvenile.
Where ideas flow without directions of reason,
No hunger, no greed for taste and pleasure.
I remember that evening of rains,
When those dark men came for gains,
Dark coat, dark pants and dark brains,
Called themselves the pioneer of change.
Comfort and pleasure was the offer they made,
Money was the measure for the offer we claim.
Money and money they pour it all,
Creativity and labor they store it all.
Now I live alone with barren around me,
No one to nurture the life around we,
River of imagination floods no more,
Dams of school control their flow.
I heard a roar by some creature,
They choose a leader for their future,
How can they sell their life so cheap?
Singing the song which he repeats.
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