From the desert they arise, like thieves in the night.
Wishing to steal a new life, from the tyranny and lies.

They are the poor.
They are the huddled masses.
Looking for the golden door, for the new colossus.

She cries!   She cries!
She's lovely though she cries.
She has shame in her eyes.

Where's the humanity in a broken family?
When will the minuteman die?

They are the poor.
They are the huddled masses.
Looking for the golden door, for the new colossus.

She cries!   She cries!
She's lovely though she cries.
She has shame in her eyes.

You have my open invitation.
I pray that fate will harbor you.
No need for nationalization.
Just run like hell, before the day is through.
Run like hell, before the day is through.