The Hungry Zillions

The framework of a rag picker boy: Attenuated everyday A meal a day with luck. An infant with his scraggy mother Trying to lull him to sleep No food to give.

The corridors of power Themselves they feed With the blood of an orphan boy Crying alone in the street.

Nobody remembers The millions of scantily clad With their billion miseries Lord help them in agony, The hungry zillions.

The passages of haves Exploit and oppress Those in dire need Of a few pieces of rice. The ordinary mass head for disaster In the utopia of the masters.