The land is no longer green
Our people go in search
Of greener pastures
As a troop of locusts
Have devoured
Our verdant pasturage
Professors of oppression
Who seek glories
With tinted stories.
Devoures, who loot and scatter
Instead of build and gather.
Their stings of power
Painful to bear.
And so, our branches stretched,
Across foreign lands.
Like sheep without folds
They forage in alien lands.
