Jus
Filhaal..
Farmer Suicide: Saint Soldier Ft. Sukhraj
Dear Guru Ji,
I'm a simple family man, living in Panjab
Wearing hand-me-downs, cuz farming is my job
And the crop last year didn't do so good
I guess I was misunderstood
When I prayed that you would send a
Angel to save a sinner
Because a Father cannot see his children gettin thinner
Anyway, I’m running outta options here
The bank sent me a letter making my options clear
The 40 percent interest
Has got me in debt and I cannot ingest
Or swallow the fact that my son is doin crack
The government doing the Sikhs like the States did the Blacks (shit)
The 5 rivers are running abundant
But I can't get a single drop from them
One then, two, then three, then four, now five
Of the farmers in my village have committed suicide
But what about me?
Suk Hi Na Jaavey Rabaa Mitti Eh Panjab Di,
(Lord may the land of Panjab not run dry)
Muk Hi Na Jaavey Kittey Hondh Vi Kisaan Di.
(May the farmers’ existence not cease to be)
I say what about me, Have a little mercy
What about me, my farm lands thirsty.
What about me? Do I even matter?
Feels like the government always had a vendetta
For my people, I am fed up
I get up in the morning but can no longer keep my head up
Instead a them makin it better
I feel like they have set up a Sikh for failure
Knee deep in poverty, kids I have failed ya
Lord cultivate my property
The wells run dry and they don't run properly
No more- weight on top of me is more than I can bear
And I'm runnin outta choices
Plus Panjabi farmers don't really have voices
In mainstream media, we live under oppression
Bollywood is feedin us lifestyles suggestive
Of lettin go of my roots
I cannot walk in these boots any longer
And my will to survive ain’t gettin any stronger
Tell me Father will you have a little mercy
My children are starving and my farms lands thirsty
Suk Hi Na Jaavey Rabaa Mitti Eh Panjab Di,
(Lord may the land of Panjab not run dry)
Muk Hi Na Jaavey Kittey Hondh Vi Kisaan Di.
(May the farmers’ existence not cease to be)
I say what about me, can I get a little mercy?
Is water not a birthright for someone who's thirsty?
If I could feed my crops with the rivers that I cry,
I can't deny. I would deliver from these eyes
What about me? What about my family?
What about my rights? Where is the humanity?
It's fight or flight, n I think I'm gonna fly
Rabba menu maaf kar (Lord forgive me),
I think I'm gonna die
A farmer suicide…
Will you have a little mercy,
My children are starving and my farm lands thirsty…
Dear Guru Ji,
I'm a simple family man, living in Panjab
Wearing hand-me-downs, cuz farming is my job
And the crop last year didn't do so good
I guess I was misunderstood
When I prayed that you would send a
Angel to save a sinner
Because a Father cannot see his children gettin thinner
Anyway, I’m running outta options here
The bank sent me a letter making my options clear
The 40 percent interest
Has got me in debt and I cannot ingest
Or swallow the fact that my son is doin crack
The government doing the Sikhs like the States did the Blacks (shit)
The 5 rivers are running abundant
But I can't get a single drop from them
One then, two, then three, then four, now five
Of the farmers in my village have committed suicide
But what about me?
Suk Hi Na Jaavey Rabaa Mitti Eh Panjab Di,
(Lord may the land of Panjab not run dry)
Muk Hi Na Jaavey Kittey Hondh Vi Kisaan Di.
(May the farmers’ existence not cease to be)
I say what about me, Have a little mercy
What about me, my farm lands thirsty.
What about me? Do I even matter?
Feels like the government always had a vendetta
For my people, I am fed up
I get up in the morning but can no longer keep my head up
Instead a them makin it better
I feel like they have set up a Sikh for failure
Knee deep in poverty, kids I have failed ya
Lord cultivate my property
The wells run dry and they don't run properly
No more- weight on top of me is more than I can bear
And I'm runnin outta choices
Plus Panjabi farmers don't really have voices
In mainstream media, we live under oppression
Bollywood is feedin us lifestyles suggestive
Of lettin go of my roots
I cannot walk in these boots any longer
And my will to survive ain’t gettin any stronger
Tell me Father will you have a little mercy
My children are starving and my farms lands thirsty
Suk Hi Na Jaavey Rabaa Mitti Eh Panjab Di,
(Lord may the land of Panjab not run dry)
Muk Hi Na Jaavey Kittey Hondh Vi Kisaan Di.
(May the farmers’ existence not cease to be)
I say what about me, can I get a little mercy?
Is water not a birthright for someone who's thirsty?
If I could feed my crops with the rivers that I cry,
I can't deny. I would deliver from these eyes
What about me? What about my family?
What about my rights? Where is the humanity?
It's fight or flight, n I think I'm gonna fly
Rabba menu maaf kar (Lord forgive me),
I think I'm gonna die
A farmer suicide…
Will you have a little mercy,
My children are starving and my farm lands thirsty…
Jus 
![[JUGRAJ SINGH]](https://www.unp.me/data/avatars/s/123/123038.jpg?1591210006){kind=avatar}
