• Ever since I was young
    I always wondered where I was from
    To always question if I belong
    In this tribe and horrible song

    To take a hand and step into time
    I hope I can make it past the age of nine
    My father beats while my mother retreats
    Into the cot where alone she sleeps

    The sad look in her eyes
    Tells a story of powerful lies
    He asks her if she is okay
    And fakes a smile while she obeys

    The air is humid which stings to breathe
    Deeply portraying what is meant to be
    He hates his father’s wicked ways
    While fighting and crying “I don’t want to stay!”

    He took a swing at her head
    Where she then fell down and bled
    Why can’t they stay or step back in to time
    Where everything was great and everyone
    Was fine.