Sometimes I dream I was back in
My home country
Just a little west of Eden
Where bullets have wings
Where I have
Where I have a pulse
That speaks in the language
That only blood speaks
On the streets after you smell gun smoke in the air
I've never seen this
But I can imagine that there's a
Split second when you don't know
If you fired the bullet
When your hand is in the air
And your index finger feels something cold
But you can't remember how to move your muscles
'Til you look up and see
Your hand holding tight to your mother's fingers.
My blood looks blue on the outside
Red on the inside
And in the same way
You can say
I am tan on the outside
Brown on the inside
Baby pink dresses at the age of two
But my organs are colored baby blue.
That's the difference secrecy makes
When people hear me speak and they think
Of a girl they once knew
Who had it all mixed up in her head
Because they saw her brother raped
Or her daddy sent off to war.
If people hear me speak and they say "No
Not since another life"
They'd be so right
They could kill.
And I keep dreaming about my home country
When my veins had wings of their own
And they flew out of me
Miles and miles of history written on my arteries
Karma, written like yours.