How could we explain our plight
to someone who's a stranger
when they can see so clearly
how we put ourselves in danger.

Of course we feel anxiety
and struggle with the doubt,
for we could die on this journey
but at least we're getting out.

And out, is our priority,
out, is what we strive.
Getting out is probably
what keeps us all alive.

Because if this was not an option
and we could not at least try
we might as well just dig a grave
and lie down and wait to die.

So we pay malignant couriers
to float us out to sea,
we take this dangerous consequence
and what will be, will be.

Our journey is horrific
and many of us die,
but the alternative to staying here
is the reason that we try.