Slave Labour
Shackles on his ankles,
His hands tied up,
He walks on up the street,
Glass stuck in his feet.

His face worn away,
By the wind and the rain,
His eyes are blank,
He never shows pain.

He’s lost in a life,
A life of a slave,
His master controls him,
To his early grave.

He slaves way,
He does all he can,
His weakness shows,
From working all day.

All over his body,
Are bruises and cuts,
The story of his life,
Ends in dust.

 
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