When we fall, we don’t recover.
We grow weaker, while they grow ever stronger.
With not a penny to our name, we suffer in the streets.
But they continue to live like kings.
We, born into Hell on earth, must work in the factories
Those dark, dank, dangerous, and desolate factories
As they use us to give them more money.
We don’t need to be poor forever.
We can rise and live like kings too.
And as we rise, they can fall,
And once they fall, they’re in our old place.