I've forgotten the words to your song,
  the one you would sing me to sleep with,
    like lullabies of a yesteryear
      plucked from vinyeards from across the shore
        a shore, a land I may never see.

They tell me I do not belong there,
  the people from your home.
    "I was not born there," they say
      but you were.
      And I was born from you
      So why may I not return
        to the home
          of my home?

And so your melodies are of a different key,
  your paintings of other hues,
    And yet still I want to listen and to see all there is
      because they belong to you.

Share with me your letters, your dances too,
  teach them I am not so different
    so I may be like
        so I may be with
            you.