The Plight of Refugees and the Disconnect of the Wealthy

"The streets were empty as I drove home, the air was cool and the sky was dark Streetlamps cast their mockery of light over ghostly shapes in an empty night Should I believe in the things I see? Am I in you, are you in me? What should I believe? Tell me, what should I believe? At home, on the porch, the wind in the trees murmured a background for my waking dream Where I drive through a city with labyrinth streets, where no one walks, where no voices speak Where empty towers above me rise toward an empty, starless sky Like a cold wind washing over me, I saw the meaning of this dream I felt that I was finally free, I felt that I was finally free But you know what they say The world wasn't built in a day You know what they say The world wasn't built in a day (no way) You lie before me sleeping, your eyes flutter in a dream Am I in you? Are you in me? What should I believe? Tell me What should I believe?" - The World Wasn't Built In A Day, Nomeansno