Drifters


Where could the pasture,
be more naturally greener,
than the villages you desert?

For some strange land,
and others to no land in particular
where you'd be curse-spotted for no reason

No thanks to bad policies
Lives are led in squalor while they squander
Let the cowards flee!

Our land is a battle ground
Let the cowards flee!
Wealth over there is no wealth at all

No one bears the tales of pains there
Not even those who spread the news
Shameful drifters!

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