We play with paper dolls and
Make the people get down and crawl
Smile with uneasy hatred
And catch the fruit when the tree is shaken
Suck the juice until the skin is grey.
Call us the masters of this place
We are the living whose lives are taken
Our voices dead and our families broken
We collapse into the street
They tell us “Paradise under iron feet”
“Love your master and God will love you to.”
Call us the slaves of this