Sleeping Giants - Misery Index

Flushed from the fields on the Malian steppe

Carved out from wombs that our fathers beset

As giants we sleep, where hopelessness ends

An UN statistics, we’re counted and fed

Children of war, hunger, and filth

Dragged through the dust in our misery

Where you won’t be seen alive…

In diamond mines, in textile looms

As cocaine mules, and prostitutes… we don’t exist

They take us young, borders be damned

From Bangkok to Juarez, on Sahara sands

Nameless and dead, on frontiers forlorn

We hate, loath, and curse the day we were born

On and on, we’re taken

More lives, forsaken

Fuck you, you maggot, harvester of human traffic

So few, aware

So few, will care

Pray on, here after, where no God will ever answer