The endless sound of shutting down your spiraling notebook factory
Give back your inkwell of egos, system's leaking
Spare you your attention to the endless dance recital
Give to you your lesson as you're barely speaking

And huddled
Having won, and do you have a light?
You can't know this
Kiss like morphine

Give to them your tired, your poor, your huddled masses
Great police who guard the gates, King Richard and the Dragging Asses
Who was our first president, and who will be the last?
Are you yet convincеd when you are sleeping in class?

And huddled
Through thе smoke, your lover comes at last
Through escaping
Not having given in
To one eye winking

And straying from the garden through battle-scarred terrain
And to the witch's son, to you, he will explain
His photos, patients, synthetic sync technique
He's getting warmer every word he speaks
And inundated with his hair dye streaks