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A woman in rags
With intelligent looks,
Rusticity seen all over
Looking for a job.
The village sky was too small
She wanted to soar in a city sky.
Lived in ten by ten room
With her husband and two children.
When the life gave a good start,
Her husband was attacked by paralysis
Lying in broken bed numb as a wound
Her salty tears deforming the tiles.
Life's funeral procession is on its way,
Make the way
Somebody's existence is being robbed
Make the way
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