They’ll say there’s none left, and yet we’re all still here. In the time of our kings (and queen), we replaced the food we’d grown in our fields with sugar to feed America’s sweet tooth, sold it to them tax free. To thank us, they bound our mouths, our minds, then our hands and feet. Now we wait at the docks for the barges to fill the shelves of our supermarkets, to fill the needles fixed to our veins.
