CD1-09-The Spirits of Labourers

The Spirits of Laborers
(Music & Lyric: simple-person)

Sinuously my body is rambling, perching on the skeletons of buildings
Amidst the cross stitches of city scenes
and the tightly compressed mud, my stories are entombed

For every inhalation of toxics and dust, profit indexes are exhaled
Spiraling with the ups and downs of investments
and the extravagant annual firework display, my breath is flamed

Silently my back relates, how computer eats away at lives
On the heavily burdened shoulders and
inside the work-wretched sinews and bones, my trauma is buried

Oh … oh … … la … … la … …

It is my body condemning the ostentation of prosperity
Leaving the darkened corners, our work-eroded bodies will embrace
our will is unbending

Teardrops will come together, depositing sediments from the heaviness of time
Though dreams maybe trampled and destitute
spirits in the wind will always sing, the stories of laborers