Do not send me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Keep them, the homeless, tempest-tost from me,
My lamp is out beside the golden door.
We have no jobs
All of our wealth is hoarded by the few
Nothing for you to eat no health insurance
No opportunity for you
You must live in the streets and no begging please
They’ll call you lazy freeloaders
Takers with nothing to take
But still you made it to the USA
Love it or leave it just don’t partake in it
The new crowd wants it all
But…
If you can arm yourself
You may shoot everyone you please
Kill our parents and all of our kids
The new group does not give a damn
Just don’t look for an abortion or
They’ll put you in jail
But then you’ll have food
And medical care
And a bed and heat
You’ll be better off than our poor
And off the street.
No need to thank me
It’s not what I do
It’s all about them
They won't listen to me but…
They really hate you.
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