WRITTEN BY MIKE STOUT, AND PERFORMED AT THE PUMP HOUSE PROGRAM ON IMMIGRANT RIGHTS EARLIER THIS SUMMER.
(See articles on Casa San Jose and LCLAA, June New People)
Caravans of migrants, in nomadic chains,
Like the Israelites in the desert long ago;
Walkin’ twelve-hundred miles, across rugged terrains,
Through the heat and whole length of Mexico.
From Guatemala, Honduras, from El Salvador,
With not much but the clothes on their backs;
Fleeing the dictatorships our government supports,
The crime and poverty, and drug gang attacks.
Desperate and hungry, cast out deportees,
Seeking asylum from hell;
Demonized immigrants, war refugees,
Searching for the liberty bell.
Is this who we are, what we’ve become?
Ripping families apart, the downtrodden shunned?
Ruled by a racist, bully, neo-fascist con?
We’ll tear down his walls, open your hearts;
Solidarity’s where the healing must start.
They call ‘em criminals, murderers and thugs,
Terrorists slippin’ through the cracks.
They wanna put hate and fear of them in us.
But Trump’s lies can’t change the facts.
Children separated, from their families,
Thousands locked up in a cage;
Where’s our compassion, our humanity?
Where’s the justice and righteous outrage?
Think about how desperate, some mother has to be,
To send their child alone to some foreign land;
Caught between the violence in the places they flee,
and the venom of the orange-skinned man.
Political pawns, in the empire’s games;
Sacrifices in a global trade war.
Our Lady of Liberty’s message has changed;
The tired and poor ain’t welcome no more.
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