They tell me you’re poor,
And I know,
I have seen you’re immigrant workers with their homes in a bag,
They tell me you are dirty,
And I believe them,
For I have seen the trash in your rivers,
And they say you’re dangerous,
And I reply, yes,
For I have seen your men lurking in the shadows,
And having replied such,
I turn once more,
to those who think thy know my city,
And smirk and say:
“Come and show me
Another city who’s more
humble,
giving,
delcious,
and more proud to be,”

Amid your flaws,
here is a strong,
hard-working ,
grateful-to-be-alive being,

And even though people use you as a pass by,
You don’t choose sides,