Children without a presenter

There is a little boy
working for you consumer’s dream
your wishes will forever destroy;
Think of him: I scream!

In rain, in hell – he works
for you to have your precious devices;
ignoring his friend’s corpse,
for you, he sacrifices.

Our eternal greed had made us
so ignorant, so arrogant, so mean –
and all we can do is to discuss;
humanity is caught only on screen.

Blinded we are from all of our jewels –
and millions and millions of children suffer
and we say it’s because of their government of fools;
but no! it is us, and our comfort!

Look at his bony little hands
look at his bony little body –
it is for our eternal lust for brands
we’ve written him this destiny so bloody!

Hungry for food and for mercy
his brown eyes, yet full of kindness;
because of the label, he is unworthy –
is there any cure for our blindness?

All he dreams of is to run,
to an Eden in the north –
journey on which he will face unmercy waves or a gun
to reach this land of another birth.

And he’ll face the reason why his friend suffers
in the cold walls of our shopping malls
he’ll meet every one of the humanity bluffers
and he’ll hit our icy walls.

He’ll be left in the corner of our cities
to be raised or raped by perverts
to survive, he’ll sell his kidneys –
into the blackness, he’ll immerse.

With no one to hear, to see;
maybe he could be the world’s best inventor –
true superhumans that provide us our believe we are free
are those little children without a presentor.

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