When I see a labourer nailing
A board of productive advertisement
Of an industrialist
It reminds me of
Jesus Christ.
About the inequality in this city
Do not ask me any questions
In the show room of chandeliers
Mostly prevails the darkness
That way the city is most modern
Never complain of tiredness during a walk
All the tired beings here
Walk with their feet in their own hands
City though is dark
Due to chimneys and soot
Let me show you the greenery
In the factory compound, a point to moot
None wished to hear me, none had to care
I got a sore throat and voice became hoarse
And now
How all lined up to listen with eager ear
Though I have to help somebody
It can not be done
Will somebody carry me to
The front gate of industrial estate
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