Piling up each day
Like a heap of dry hay
If not like an ant hill
Without the people’s will
To form this pyramid of misery
The rural poor are at the bottom
From summer to autumn
Raising up their empty hands
Of which you promised land
Of course you built them dams
Yes they form cooperatives
But not water to draw water
The dams had silted up
Donors gave no more
The pieces of land are now over crowded
As they look up to the clouds
As you gave them empty promises
While sitting higher up at the pyramid

Clinic they had built
While their crops wilt
You gave them no nurses
But you fatten your purses
To us: tighten you belts
Yourself loosening you belts
Workers cry out every year
Because your prices went up everyday
To form this pyramid of misery