Not Born there, Grew Up There
Below the 49th parallel.
Spanning sea to shining sea.
I wasn't born there, but I grew up there.
Some of my earliest memories.
Looking out of the crib.
My dad singing me to sleep.
Down in the valley, the valley so low.
Late in the evening, you can hear the train blow.
School, from kinder to 9th.
Lots of history and people I've lost touch with.
I wasn't born there, but I grew up there.
Today I look to the south and remember.
I do miss it at times.
That country, though many hate it—I do not.
I love it, but I understand the hatred.
It can swagger and offend.
It can boast and cause many to get angry.
Still, it has a right to do some of that.
It is capable of the better light bulb, the innovation, organization of
making things work in a revolutionary manner.
But unfortunately it was infiltrated and run from the outside.
The people are starting to figure that out.
They've been used terribly and made to do terrible things.
Their leadership has its head in the noose.
And those pulling the puppet strings,
those sneaky dishonest bastards, are still getting away with it.
Keeping the religious chauvinist lies afloat to their supreme advantage.
Big lies—and bigger crimes in their cause.
So many are afraid of being called derogatory names of shame.
Those names that brand you and destroy you.
Even if they're not true—they control everything.
There's nothing you can say to their lies.
The truth is hate speech they proclaim.
You must submit to their rule.
You must smile and say yes you're right.
BUT THEY AREN'T RIGHT!
Will they fall one day? Maybe sooner than you know.
Could it be the very wheels needed to turn are revolving now.
Perhaps my special country can be saved.
The country that so miss-stepped and corrupted itself.
I wasn't born there, but damn it I grew up there!
And it's mine as much as theirs.
Feeling is all the proof I need.
