The hands of my brothers

I've never feared a man, who went to work in boots, Nor one that worked the fields, who grew vegetables and fruits, Instead be on guard, for the briefcase and the suits, Cause if they catch you sleeping, for sure they'll tie your noose. I've never feared a person with dirt upon their hands, Who made an honest living, on earth, sea, or sands, Instead I'm always wary, of the rich who make demands. For what you make, is what they take, to further all their plans. I've never feared a human, who's known hardship, and pain, Whose gloves have turned to rags, whose clothes are always stained, Instead I see the truth, what they gave so I may live, While someone else, takes their house, and lies to those they give, I've never feared my brothers, I know their hands all too well, They're far to busy working, and us they'd never sell...