A country lobbed with hate and fear,
Boundaries created as love disappears,
Broken dreams and broken homes,
Where colour divides, and sentiments too.

Movies lie, as do books,
This is no land of the free,
No freedom to even hope.

You're always an outsiders,
The man with papers,
Your identity a form,
Subjected to reform.

You're looked at with suspicion,
As a timer ticks over your head,
You're pushed into submission,
There's no home for you here to be made.

But as voices echo,
It's time to reflect,
There's no time to wallow,
No time to feel regret.

Push forward as one,
With the voice of the many,
Injustice is won,
In a chorus and symphony.