GANGgajang
To the North
To the north are the canefields, seas of waving greenAnd then the fires come, and burn the waterIt's a sight to be seenThe men in slouch hats reap the harvestBrown sticks they place in cagesAnd then the trains hiss, they carry bountyFrom the furnace to the millStick men silhouettes bend against the flame,Shout above the crackle crunch.Watch as the ground spits at the skyA yellow-orange spit from a mouth that will never die
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