Give us your tired and weak and we will make them strong. Bring us your foreign songs and we will sing along. Leave us your broken dreams we'll give them to mend.
Said, you called me, fucking lied. You little bitch, you deserve to die. I'm just sitting, pulling my pud. With a dirty magazine and a six of Bud. . Nothing to do, nothing to do.
In this house of suffering. I gotta let some joy in. I hear that freedom will win. . Oh, where, oh, where can Jah love be now?. My dear, it's here in the underground.