The taxman, the bosses, the salesmen
Politicians, preachers and all alike
All waiting to take, take, take
Your time, your money, your life
Your thoughts and freedoms
Your youth and joy and memories
They would take your soul if they could
Prise it away from your old worn hands
But the fight to keep, keep, keep
At least something from those blaggards
Is a fire be it raging or warm embers
That stops them, keeps them away
Keeps you fighting
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I would like to translate this poem