Frank

Mother said we can’t have this
Why don’t you just kiss? Oh oh oh
She scraped the plate clean with her knife and said
«You won’t be eating this.» Oh oh oh
Paper said that you were a thumb
That I was a fist. Oh oh oh
We traded dead, bottled, and fucked
But we didn’t get pissed. Oh oh oh
The salt upon your lips was sweet
Put it on repeat
I was born on an Indian shore
Sure as the day is long
As a tree is strong. Oh oh oh
It’s not about coming in first
It’s about getting along. Oh oh oh
We swam across the lake
And laid our clothes on the ground. Oh oh oh
They’ll get you here if you are white
They’ll smoke you there if you’re brown. Oh oh oh
Your brothers later would show me their fists
Remember this:
I was born on an Indian shore
What’s the matter with the world?
You say art. You say die
What’s the matter with the boy?
You ask why. He wouldn’t cry
He couldn’t cry
The city lying over the hill
Like a giant asleep. Oh oh oh
I wound my way back to your house
Was too frightened to sleep. Oh oh oh
The paper said that I was a fake
That it was murder or rape. Oh oh oh
Your body floated still as a leaf
Your hand as cold as a snake’s. Oh oh oh
The whole world’s going out of it’s mind
Put it on rewind
I was born on an Indian shore