Victories from around, we used to see
When faces of doom rise to their peak.
Scars from a naughty past it may seem;
when people we hoped in chose not to speak.

We gathered around the orange, windy bay.
Tears and scars on our backs revealed where our hopes used to lay
And when the beams of light where eradicated,
Our fragile, feeble hearts felt broken hearted.

Memories from the good childhood days,
Mother and daughter smile even when packing hay.
But even on our beds of death,
We aimed at not giving out our last breath.

Silly arguments into the heart of the night,
There was never a night they missed a fight.
We watched our masters eschew all our rights,
Some of us had a taste of death's bite.

We ate the poison of the apple tree,
and drank our fill of the cursed sea.
We realized there's no land hope may seem to be.
So, a land of poverty and misery we turned to flee.