I grew up in a place, where there are no mountains, cities, or buildings
Instead, every few nights I encountered killings
Dead bodies in the middle of the road, rotten, ran over
Cars passed by as if no one they've seen, in the breezy night of October
But behind the brutalities, lay a land of courage
Starving beggars, thin-skinned, visible bones, malnourished
Continuing their lives to provide the most minimum income for their families
So I ask everyone, where are our philanthropies?
We judge the lifestyle of having to resort to the last option to survive
Unknowing what tomorrow will bring, or even how to get by
So what if they do or eat things that are not considered natural?
The ignorance of not understanding different cultures doesn't make your beliefs factual
When your country hides you from the brutal reality
We face life in the most extreme conditions, of what you called abnormality
There's only one difference standing between you and I
You stand behind the wall of protection, nourishment, wealth, looking by
Without seeing how your fellow neighbors are living in the most agony
So I ask you, where is your philanthropy?