The land of the free and the home of the brave. 

We come here to start new lives because our old ones are close to the grave.

In Pakistan, we lived with servants and riches.

But now it is destined for corruption and ditches.

We'll work very hard and stay very long.

We'll obey all your laws and sing all your songs. 

We'll learn your language.

We'll pack our baggage.

Here we come.

We're here now and things are much different.

It seems we're being questioned about everything, even our religion. 

The love of parents is tested.

Money problems are hectic. 

Rented house, yet dad's never home.

We're always home, while our minds always roam.

He works night shifts all the time.

Mom cleans, while she cries.

I color and draw, as an innocent kid. 

The things they do in America, I'll never get.

We finally have enough money to buy our own house now.

Fourteen years since we arrived, we live in a gated community somehow.

Countless nightshifts, blood, sweat, and tears.

Thanks to them for all the years.

But now, we struggle for mortgage, as they give us the life we always wanted.

College loans, health insurance, and more, as we're haunted.

I'd hate to have to burden them again. 

As their youngest child is leaving them.

In a foreign land, it seems we're leaving them all too fast.

We can't pay for college ourselves, and I, too, would hate to have to ask.

He's about fifty-nine and she's about fifty-five. 

They should be worried more about staying alive.

He tells me every day to get a scholarship.

I'm doing my best dad; but I'm lying a bit.

I spend all my time helping others, volunteering, and studying.

I'm too busy to hangout, I'm too involved with struggling.

I just hope that things later arrange themselves out.

No seconds left to make cents, let's still not doubt now.

So I beg and I plea,

If you have the money to help, please give it to me.

I need it more than ninety-nine-point-nine percent of other applicants, please.

I spent long enough on this, not getting it would just be a tease.