the country of the poor

The country of the poor is where I stay

No barbed wire to keep you away

Mark in your die-ary

Persona no grata gone that way

They have no alibi

That is your cry

Struck dumb doing it for ourselves

Not striving to be somebody else

Your mum’s a doctor

Your dad’s a lawyer

Whoopee!

Don’t compare me

With someone you want to be

A moron’s moron is President of the USA

What does that say?

That’s your history

Price paid for liberty

You get off scott-free

What did you say

When they took us away?

Neighbours in search of a friend

Learn your lines

I guess that’s the end

We’ll not meet again

And if we do

I’ll not chastise you

Welcome to my country.