We gather at the wire,
concealed in the crowd.
Some of us quiet,
others are loud.

So many cultures
share this common sway
all are sweeping the ports
trying to get away.

We wait for disorder.
We wait for mistakes
and in all of the turmoil
some will try make their breaks.

Authorities' do their best
to keep us in grip
but they're not always aware
of the one who's made the slip.

We are always here waiting
and are concealed out of sight.
Hiding in any location,
configured by our plight.

Not a task we would choose
but what else can we do?
It's fifty, fifty I think
if I get caught or get through.

Moving swift our intention
in the hope we succeed
and to that ideal location
we hope to proceed.

Even if we're lucky
and our course we get done.
Everyday then will try us
with a life on the run.

Then if luck stays with us
our lives this will sway
but things are not always clear
always ready to get away.