Familiar tune
But unfamiliar lyrics
Replaced all
With skeptical humming
Fading in and out
Like waves on feet
Cast in green copper
The song escapes
As uncertain voices elect
To leave the singing to the lyricists-
That dying breed
They project till their filiments sever
And leave us in voiceless darkness
With music blurring
As the needle slashes the black center
We lose the rhythm
The inflection
Every single election
Till the call of liberty is lost
They say it’s not over till the fat lady sings
But it seems it isn’t over
Until the New Colossus finally falls silent
-Galwyn

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