Vagrant Migrant1 min 12.3K 1 min 12.3K
While the well-off citizens clap
Light a candle and have a ball
The migrants caught in a pincer
Writing is on the wall.
Trudging home, it is a long walk
Hunger and death, them they stalk.
What awaits them at home they know not
Labour laws suspended their rights now a naught.
Cancelled trains at a whim
Stale food served to him.
Shramik their life quite tragic
Their life, devoid of any magic.
Let us build a wall, not a big thing
Let them live unseen, that is something.
Good times have come for the industries
They too can have a ball,
Two hoots for labour who cries?
Life thy name has become strife
In this the new normal,
Ugly has become rife.