Slaves to the Blue Gold

The burning sun does cast its rays,

Sends down its heavy heat.

Upon the parched and barren landscape,

Broken by shuffling feet.

The burning sands, the lakes of salt,

A desert that's bone dry.

Water held in dams below,

Beneath a cloudless sky.

A supposed realm of oil,

The black gold of slavery.

Yet Atacaman gold is blue,

Per Quantum's duplicity.

The people struggle to survive,

The sunlight burns their skin.

Parched are throats and dry are eyes,

Hope is running thin.

All life requires water,

It's a natural law so cruel.

And yet water's eclipsed by oil,

Black gold, a fossil fuel.

Slaves to the new blue gold,

It's all part of Quantum's plan.

As drought, starvation, dehydration,

Seize the Atacaman land.