Hold on to the lean fingers
Of your old young mother's hand
And stop trying to make sense
Of the justice in this all
When the school bells ring
Find a little pebble to break
Go help your father
Climb a hundred stairs
Look down the cavity in the walls
But don't fall, don't fall
May your never experience hunger
Let there be junk from the day before
Served with the kindness
Of strangers who offer
The big lord, gold
Cry little child cry
Let the concrete in the Sethu's* site
Never run dry.
* A rich man.
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