We laborers our labors are incomplete

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Our battle is incomplete, we are incomplete.
We laborers, our labors are incomplete.
Come on, check out the high rise buildings.
Look at the glowing in the white.
Look at our houses in huts.
Look at our roof.
Watch this pile of food and laugh.
And don’t get trapped in any dilemma.
We have grown sweat by shedding.
All day, I had got water but didn’t drink.
We were also confident for our loved ones.
We were also happy, with dreams.
The rich took away all by looting justice.
Those who were awake in the eyes, all of them slept.
We are laborers, selling labour in the standing market.
If you want to sell it for two, yes, it was for four.
Because labour does not deserve respect in this country.
There is a respect sitting still in disguise.
These roads, tomorrow, factories are standing with my breath.
Deployed, unworthy, hungry even today we are lying.
We are laborers, our rites are our labour.
The sentence is eternal, just ‘creation’ is ours.
Knowledge is trapped in the trap of caste.
Bravery, war, gun, bomb, slaughter clan
Aishwarya is tightened by the secret of exploitation, interest, deception.
Labor is the only thing that does not tighten, sink or get trapped.
From generations we laborers go.
All efforts of progress go down.
No yards, lion or fox standing on the road.
The path of our efforts is cut again and again.
The next generation standing on the way would break their heads.
Either break your leg tired.
Close those opportunities where they open.
All the colors of dreams, say something.
Bringing gems of earth from the womb and minerals.
We are filling colors in her body, listen to Vanij.
On stake, our coins continue to be.
Our body kept losing the life of our bones.
Our sons should also rise and go to Parliament.
Be free from exploitation and rule.
Also edit the legal laws.
Make standard meaning of the page of justice.
Daughters should not be with force.
Don’t shed tears from the core of your whole life.
We are labourers that’s why fear is ours.
We win all the battlefields, but you win.
When the son stands on his feet.
Balbhadra got gambling in hand.
Or dipped in a garage’s Greece.
The knowledge of engineers as learned.
Or carrying a job on someone’s door.
Or somewhere in the hotel washing utensils.
The man lost in the young world.
The man who loses from life for the whole life.
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