As we drop bombs on your family everyday,
we look down on you, chase you away
On our land we design the play, you speak
but we don't get what you say.
You fled leaving behind your death
Now exhausted you turn to us for bread.
Trying to find a bed, or at least a place to rest.
You do your best, we tell our children you infest
our society of wealth, and that your presence
could affect their health, teaching them to fear
a part of themselves, and not worry about it
as long as there's food on the shelves.
And when we see your situation on TV,
we say: 'that's bad, but at least it's not me-ee'
depending on support from other greedy.
We pretend to be needy, leaving our ways as they were,
because we're used to getting things easy.