First notice that Nothing is as It used to be, Thus everything is No longer on Familiar ground—even that Couch potato you once Thought was impervious To change now Looks to be sprouting Eyes in the back Of its cabbage head.
Dear brothers In a common cause, These teeming masses Of supplicants besieging Our sacred borders Seek nothing Save a sanctuary where They can rest their weary heads; Their plight does indeed cut Us to the quick—pray Let us show compassion, Home in on each and every one With heaven-sent teargas, plenty Of angelic cudgels and lay Their worries to rest before The final, merciful kill.