Respect indigenous people

How easy it appears
To kick a blind mans cane away
To steel a pittance from a poor man
On a foggy day
The rich man’s jiggery pokery
With phantom stocks and shares
Can grab a pensioners savings
As he says his prayers

In Bangladesh the Santal people
Live in squalor they
Work their butts off for a dollar
Just one every day
Living in a mud hut
Using a duff latrine
No running water
Except ones tears
Up against the great machine

That plans to put a power station
Where your bit of land
Where you grow your vegetables
In the dried out sand
Wants to cut the trees around your hut
Actually Down to the ground
Wants to fill your pond in
So your fish will all be drowned

Wants to poison your water
That you fetch a mile away
Wants to make the air you breathe
Filled up with dust all day
An ethnic group of ancient people
You can go to hell
We want a coal fired power station
Here
And it will make you well

So you can breathe our coal dust
And be deafened by the noise
We have come from England
Where now there are few joys
So you can share the wisdom
And get the hell away
So we can make a packet
Mining coal the dirty way