Money may grow from trees,
But they don't really help trees grow
We keep telling the government
But, our needs, they ignore
Yes, subsidies and waivers help
They make the cross lighter
But the burden is still too heavy to bear
What with our pockets getting lighter
No water for our crops to grow
No water for us too
No water for a sustenance
The money won't bring water true
The fields are greener
On the other side. That's true.
The fields that have machines and fertilisers
The villages that have electricity too
The middle keeps growing
I mean, the men in the middle
They take away our harvest for a pittance
Are we just playing second fiddle?
Working dawn to dusk, we are
Burning our backs in the sweltering heat
Our families pushing themselves to their limits
Three meals, sometimes, is a great treat.
We can't promise our children a better fate than us
They must work with us in the field
We can't afford to send them to school
Until our farmlands truly bring yield
Even those who want and can give their children an education
The future doesn't hold much
A classroom barely lit, a room that's rubble
Is 1st standard a qualification as such?
We've protested, we've rallied, unions we formed
We've screamed ourselves hoarse, we've whispered our plea
Our fields are dying, can anyone hear us?
Our fields are dying and so are we...
But they don't really help trees grow
We keep telling the government
But, our needs, they ignore
Yes, subsidies and waivers help
They make the cross lighter
But the burden is still too heavy to bear
What with our pockets getting lighter
No water for our crops to grow
No water for us too
No water for a sustenance
The money won't bring water true
The fields are greener
On the other side. That's true.
The fields that have machines and fertilisers
The villages that have electricity too
The middle keeps growing
I mean, the men in the middle
They take away our harvest for a pittance
Are we just playing second fiddle?
Working dawn to dusk, we are
Burning our backs in the sweltering heat
Our families pushing themselves to their limits
Three meals, sometimes, is a great treat.
We can't promise our children a better fate than us
They must work with us in the field
We can't afford to send them to school
Until our farmlands truly bring yield
Even those who want and can give their children an education
The future doesn't hold much
A classroom barely lit, a room that's rubble
Is 1st standard a qualification as such?
We've protested, we've rallied, unions we formed
We've screamed ourselves hoarse, we've whispered our plea
Our fields are dying, can anyone hear us?
Our fields are dying and so are we...
