They matched in through injustice
Hands, feet beguiling injustice
Hands, feet beguiling injustice
Injustice matched their mission
They, thought to be surrounding members
Pulled apart my house belonging
Carrying sheaves and herds they’ve been longing
Fruits of my wishes, toils and tears
Men with vanished visage
Brought my heart to its knees
They were gone before I was born
Not through the hole of injustice
But through the native door.
Not through the hole of injustice
But through the native door.
