Frozen ground and the sky is
sullen
As a naked stuff at a corner was ridden
And hoarse machine cracks our
ears
It goes as if dark dust shedding
the tears
Yonder the seabirds chant
loudly
But the machine sound
disturbs the entity
A machine never it stops, does
run crazily.
It crashes the bones, the
sands, and all stocked pence
Its fuel is our blood, our sweat,
the pulse of our veins
Imported machine and it has
sharp wheels
Column of smokes it left
behind
Veiled our sun to be goopy
and tied
Whether it shines from east
or north,
Everywhere our desert still foamy
at south
Millions of people raise hands
denoting sluggishly
But the sun is enclosed
looking harshly
Our sun was stolen, perhaps
never comes again
Malnutritioned sun complains
severe pain
It is as if the American's democracy
halts and shy
No progress, but all throats
would reply fie!
Some of our sun is driven
back
Conflict all day, nonchalant
for dark
The prestige of our ancestors'
tombs always ask
Never can we shun away to
their driven ark
However, the imported machine
it has sharp teeth.
But we shall look forward
never to look beneath
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