Verse I
I am the tired, I am the poor
one among the huddled, yearning
where's the lamp beside your golden door
alas it's made only of gold now
No asylum for me within,
the thunder of walls are forming
I foresee the stench of émigré camps
and gates sadly, slowly closing now
Verse II
once again it's common place,
for a people to live in persecution
driven out, and locked within
these once hallowed halls
you turn your hearts, bury your heads
and call it retribution
your gates will rust and they will cease
by the guise of your ******* up laws
Chorus
Who will be the one
when your judgment day is done
who says yea or nay
who will wield that gavel
Who will turn the key
and darken a land once free
like Jesus to the cross
or Barabbas to the rabble
Verse III
I am the wretched from distant shores
tempest-tossed and dying
now you are locked behind your doors
no longer free and brave
maybe someday when seasons turn
and yours is the soul that's crying
perhaps I'll be the one who'll spurn
and send you to your grave
Chorus
Who will be the one
when your judgment day is done
who says yea or nay
who will wield that gavel
Who will turn the key
and darken a land once free
like Jesus to the cross
or Barabbas to the rabble
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 11:38 PM UTC
Verse I
I am the tired, I am the poor
one among the huddled, yearning
where's the lamp beside your golden door
alas it's made only of gold now
No asylum for me within,
the thunder of walls are forming
I foresee the stench of émigré camps
and gates sadly, slowly closing now
Verse II
once again it's common place,
for a people to live in persecution
driven out, and locked within
these once hallowed halls
you turn your hearts, bury your heads
and call it retribution
your gates will rust and they will cease
by the guise of your ******* up laws
Chorus
Who will be the one
when your judgment day is done
who says yea or nay
who will wield that gavel
Who will turn the key
and darken a land once free
like Jesus to the cross
or Barabbas to the rabble
Verse III
I am the wretched from distant shores
tempest-tossed and dying
now you are locked behind your doors
no longer free and brave
maybe someday when seasons turn
and yours is the soul that's crying
perhaps I'll be the one who'll spurn
and send you to your grave
Chorus
Who will be the one
when your judgment day is done
who says yea or nay
who will wield that gavel
Who will turn the key
and darken a land once free
like Jesus to the cross
or Barabbas to the rabble
Harrogate, Tn 1/30/17
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