Birds of Passage

Modern amerika arose by our hands and our blood oiled the gears of progression in came the inmigrant tide a sea of disposable faces up went the bridges and buildings and cities on the backs of expendable races "Give us your poor and your huddled masses..." forgotten scriptures etched at the base of her majestic feet why do we give up our lives we are your poor your huddled masses forgotten servants the streets we've built have now become our homes why do we give up our lives.