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Farmer
From the soil he has born,
For the soil he has born,
He makes the soil productive.
In order to make it gold he burn himself.
And let the soil to be Seductive.
He feels the aroma of soil,
When ever rain comes, he start imagining to have alot in some.
From his breath to his sweat.
From the knee to his head.
He make it, he break it.
With the plough which he drags it.
On the soil, for the soil.
Burning hand, burning mind,
Finally it makes the soil fertile.
New life arrive,
Small leafs make him smile.
The pain of his life, still be hidden in somewhere in his eyes.
He work everyday, so we can't suffer from starving in our whole life.
We should respect him because the Farmer is the hope of life.
© kill3rheartshreshth
For the soil he has born,
He makes the soil productive.
In order to make it gold he burn himself.
And let the soil to be Seductive.
He feels the aroma of soil,
When ever rain comes, he start imagining to have alot in some.
From his breath to his sweat.
From the knee to his head.
He make it, he break it.
With the plough which he drags it.
On the soil, for the soil.
Burning hand, burning mind,
Finally it makes the soil fertile.
New life arrive,
Small leafs make him smile.
The pain of his life, still be hidden in somewhere in his eyes.
He work everyday, so we can't suffer from starving in our whole life.
We should respect him because the Farmer is the hope of life.
© kill3rheartshreshth
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