As soldiers were, I understand:
We had to rage to march ourselves
To the battleground.

As tyrants held us from behind,
In trenches, deep, one must survive,
Where some are made to trample hard,
And some are laid and trampled twice.

As workers, too, I understand:
We’re bred to be an underclass,
Where some may find the tools to rise,
While all the rest are tossed aside.

As brethren, I can’t understand
How some can feast as victors, while
The rest of us are left behind.

Can’t bring myself to fathom why
My bleeding heart was left to die.