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Corporate Target (antiparazi) wrote,
@ 2003-06-16 17:53:00
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    Homage to a Migrant Worker
    Written by S. Kattan, my bro's old band..

    Keep in mind he has a really cool voice, ugh wish i could explain the rhythm..

    Four in the morning, the sun not even shining in your
    eyes yet when you face the east
    But bet this I'm awake and i'm motherfucking pissed
    Roll out of bed after i give my pretty wife a kiss
    and rubbing my eyes to awaken me I slap my cracking cheeks a bit.

    Drink a freezing mug of coffee that I brewed the morn
    before.
    What for? That slave driver works me to my
    core, till I'm sore, and if I don't he'll throw me out
    the door.
    It's not enough that he already calls my
    wife a fucking whore?
    What's more, I'm upset that the water heater broke, but it don't matter anyway because
    the shower doesn't work. I don't shave because some
    scruffle will save me from the burning devil rays of
    sunshine heating up the morn.

    I put my jeans on, a flannel, some boots that hurt my
    feet.
    They say I stink, but who said the smell of
    poverty is sweet?
    I spend on food the only little money that I keep from fourteen hours in the field and
    only four hours of sleep.
    Head out the doorway knowing that the day beholds no hope, working for
    slave drivers is like hanging on the rope.
    I choke on the stench of ddt that smokes the field that I will
    work on.
    This ain't no fucking joke and I ain't no fucking moron.
    The grapes you eat I picked them with
    my bare, arthritic hands, made a forest from the
    desert by irrigating sand, broke my back and bent it
    backwards to be treated like a man
    But I still don't get respect 'cause that ain't in your master plan.
    All day i work and night I pray so both my corpse and
    mind are strong, but still they're passing
    propositions telling me I don't belong.
    And though I try to speak your language you won't listen to my song
    because your heart is cold just as the day is long.

    Throngs of migrant workers flow in on boats in rivers
    full of blood.
    You say you're gonna build a dam but you don't want to stop the flood.
    You want to harness all it's energy and to irrigate the sod.
    This child cannot be spoiled but you refuse to spare the rod.
    With my flesh all raw and red blood bled to feed your
    cows, which you hold more sacred than a human anyhow,
    and instead of me eating pork you feed my children to
    the sows, so fuck you, one day I'll rise up and go pow
    blow,
    Because peace love and happiness ain't working
    for me now.


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psychollama
2003-06-17 00:20 (link)
interesting...its so random i luv it
haha

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