The fruits of labor
That spoil in the cold winter nights
The stench wafting on bitter winds to the lonely and hungry

Paid for in blood and sweat
We keep the tears for no one
Shut up away from the light of day

The sweat taken
From lifting others up to undeserved glory

The blood given
In absolution of the unseen protector
That guards us from the cruelty of relentless masters

Drenched cloths cling ever so tightly
As a second layer of skin
Soaked with ourselves in the dead of night
A hardend shell to protect againsed the unyielding pressures of oncomming madness

So as for the fruits of our labor
I am sad to tell the lonely and hungry
That it is only the sent that floats upon the devilish breeze

But what we do have to give is a helping hand
If ever you have the displeasure of being cast down to our forsaken homes

Forever shall we know nothing but our blood and sweat
For our tears are kept for a later time