The prisons are built, for the poor and benign.
Driven underfoot as they point and they shoot,
As they vilify and deify, hatred takes root.
The past has not passed;
With present danger does it lurk.
Heathens all, whose skin is browned;
Children, caged, won’t make a sound.
Hold up a mirror,
Question your stance
Cut us with taxes, then watch as we bleed;
Ignore all our cries as we scream out in need.