Tear Gas Dries On Its Own
Tear gas in their faces
Malicious militia’s hunt,
The people we depend upon
To bear the work we shun
The caravan has reached our gates
Their faces full of sadness
wishing to work our fields of lettuce
They’re greeted with our madness
They leave a dying state to pick
Our fruit and grapes with gladness
Caring for our golf course lawns
Our children, if they let us.
Like the trans Atlantic ship
bearing Jews, called the St. Lewis
If we turn them back, the gods
who know our names, will eschew us..
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