They killed us at the border
and they killed us at the stations
and they killed us in the deserts
where even coyotes wouldn't go.
And they killed us on the highways
and they killed us in the ditches
and they hung us on the signposts
that mark the country roads.
And they found us in the cornfields
And they found us in the kitchens
And they found us in slaughterhouses
with blood up to our knees
And they hounded us into alleyways
And they threw us into cellars,
They tossed our bodies into dumpsters
like we were some disease.
[might need to change "disease" to something that makes more sense]
[and then an extra line for third stanza]
And our bodes were piled high in grave sties
strip mine pits hollowed out.
[need to work with that]