Exile

In big crowds, critical states
Long queues - go
Heavy stress, cruel pains
Poor people - are

From their land escape
Blind wretched, looking for their way
No sympathy at all
Heavy destroyed, learned the cruel truth
Do not want their rulers
Robbed poor, recognize their belief
In ears the only sound
Harsh painful and bloody fight

From the misery people are running away
Hope and belief do not die
Hungry and tired going to the ground
Feeling the cruel misery on the bodies

Last the time / exile zone