Some of us are desert people
Strained by heat , tanned in disgust
Raised eyebrows and swollen feet
With a work which drains , a work which feeds
Men and their faces , cut by moustache
Women and their nose , bound by rings
Drunk in merry , at a godly place
Drunk in pain , drunk in grace
Like sand , our fate struggles under our feet
Some of us are , after all , desert people.
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