The powdered milk
That the adverts sell
To third world mothers
Deprived and ill
The little tins
Of milk-white-lies
For the starving child
That wants
Yet dies

Lured away
From the mother's breast
By lies imported from the west
She cannot keep the bottle clean
She cannot read the little tin
Sees the picture clean and white
But never taught to read and write
The company that offers the bribe
For the deaths of a thousand kicks
Inside

To some people money means more than life
But only when it's someone else's life
Nestles' company pocket fillers
They're sucking from those tiny bellies
More money for the baby-killers
Breath
Life
Death
Lies