While they throw bones,
our stomachs rumble.
Screaming, making noises,
the hymn of the poor.


While they can still see
what night looks like,
we're in the darkness,
waiting for tomorrow,
so our eyes could see again.


While they sip the last toast
of their glorious celebration,
we dreamed of still living the day
that comes after the night.


Bellies empty,
knees that shakes from hunger
and the lust of nothing,
but to feed our mouths.


This is the world I will ever know,
the world that will never be fair.
The world that kills you,
so it could still live.
The world I dreamed to leave.