The nails of which hold-up the comfort your home
Were put in place by the same type working in the loam.
The ones that you so easily ignored,
You’ll find working on concrete freshly poured.
We’re the ones that take you’re spite, but give it our all!
We’re the ones you often don’t think belong in your urban sprawl.
You think money and wealth is what run our lives;
Without the worker bees, you’re Queen loses the hives!
Look down all you want, from the throne which we built…
But remember, without us; all you’d have is a pile of silt.
Material life makes you think we’re lesser folk;
You never realize the sharpness until that fateful poke.