No, i don't have any kids to bond over
no nostalgia, no shared reminiscence
no country, no flag on my shoulders
no burning or school spirit
amusement at the rich and the migrant worker
cackling as the nation bumbles steady and slow
like a never-ending parade
on a parched desert landscape
no, i don't have a career yet
no chains yet to mull over and hang my head about
all the poor decisions i have yet to make
no, i have no savior
no father figure in the sky, making his judgement on my grief
or remorseful heart
my joy, my ease, my running in the wind
no, i'm still a child yet, watching myself from afar
so unsure, so self-conscious, so gangly yet small
no, i think we're ok here,
we have no awareness of the line
that so many others have to cross a world away
i watched the poverty around me there in that other place, i breathed it in, i made it part of me
and it broke my heart
no, i think i'll pass
on your hatred and heavy hands
your small-world view of this infinity we live in
