We are refugees,
Children of the sand,
Carried by the breeze
From our motherland.
Borne on winds of strife,
Cast on stormy seas,
On the edge of life,
We are refugees.
Ragged and weary, we land on your shores,
Wait at your borders and stand by your doors.
Begging for shelter, we reach for your hand,
Dying for causes we don’t understand.
We are not strangers to sorrow or pain
Tears are what fell, though we prayed for the rain.
Lands became deserts of powder and stone,
Where only the number of dying has grown.
We don’t choose our destiny
Or decide where we are born.
Famine, war and poverty
Are the cards we are dealt,
The straws which are drawn.