We wake up before the Sun,

But thanking God for another day.

We get ready as a whole,

Exhausted but getting dressed.

 

We load up the van,

With mops, a scrubber and a buffer.

We load up the van,

So that we may not hunger.

 

We drive to our destination,

no vacations nor days off.

So that our children can continue their education,

Hoping that our hard work will one day pay off.

 

We arrive,

We unload the van.

We greet them with a smile,

But silent they are.

 

We clean nonstop,

Being judged the entire time.

They walkover our work,

Walking over us at the same time.

 

They treat us like peasants,

Unable to see that they too are slaves.

Still because we come from Mexicans,

To them we are seen like freaks in chains.

 

We gather our equipment,

We tell them that we are done.

They check my equipment like detectives,

Before we can head out.

 

We load up the van,

Taking our pride along.

Talking English, the entire time,

Not knowing Spanish at all.

 

In their luxurious part of town,

I am nothing but a rat.

Unwelcomed,

Treated like a convict every time.

 

I drive to my house,

In my little white van.

Eager to see my spouse,

And my little children one more time.

 

Even though they might be part of the elites,

I am something that they will never be.

A man that is perfectly free,

From a judging society.