If debt has squeezed the ribs of your hope And your sun, stranded in the strife With every penny, you journey in exile Here, see the mirror reflecting the sun of your day I swam in the oily sea, I drowned Lodged in merchandise of barrels, I lost Dying in the raucous of inflation But here the holy-wood, saved my soul. Listen to the sonorous song of the savannah Heed the holy message of the wood Tarnish not the white garment of my cotton Hasty to the textile, beckons the cotton. I swam in the oily sea, I drowned Lodged in merchandise of barrels, I lost Dying in the raucous of inflation But here the holy-wood, saved my soul. The flesh is agile like the skin of omelette The blood is naked than the skin Every vein shivers, every eye is blind If failed to honour the counsels by cotton I swam in the oily sea, I drowned Lodged in merchandise of barrels, I lost Dying in the raucous of inflation But here the holy-wood, saved my soul. Textile, ...
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