I came here for hope
For a home
A life of my own
I came here to make a name for myself
Worked my hands to the bone planting seeds, hoping for growth.
I made this place my own.
But the sun burnt the ground, the grass withered before my eyes.
The sun burnt the ground.
The grass withered.
It's been a year since I've seen the rain.
Since then, everything has changed.
The land is dead, there's no life on the farms.
My hope is gone.
Dust storms cover us,
Cover the sun.
Living hell.
I am my living hell.
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