Glasshouses
You say, go find yourself a new home
But isn't it a bit infantile
To consider yourself the judge
Of someone's rights to start a better life?
Today you say, go find yourself a new home
But tomorrow when you find yourself away
I ask you to stop and think about your prejudice
Because you forgot about something
You're not even native and yet
You've found your way home
It's ironic that people that cast the stones
Are always the first to moan
When the stones are thrown at them
Writer/s: SAMUEL LLOYD DUCKWORTH
