From India and China, they depart in droves,
Seeking new beginnings in far-off coves,
Pakistan and Bangladesh, they also leave,
In search of better lives, they want to believe.
Philippines and Colombians, many go,
To lands, where children they will sow,
Vietnam and Mexico, they bid adieu,
Hoping for a future bright and new.
Nigeria and Egypt, they join the flow,
To find opportunities where they may grow,
Morocco and Turkey, they say goodbye,
To their homeland, beneath the sky.
Russians and Ukrainians roam,
Crossing borders to seek a new home,
Iraq and Afghanistan, they take a chance,
To start afresh in a foreign land's expanse.
Night is their disguise, GPS is their guide,
Difficulties of getting in by land or sea, they abide.
Across the borderlands they silently rove,
Carrying the most precious and, of course, hope.
Many of them came as tourists and stayed
Due to the wide-open welcoming gates, they invade
They're from the fields where coca and poppies grow.
That is where the highs we know come from.