At a tender age
of three years old
it was time to leave
or so I'm told
we packed up, piled in
removed ourselves
pictures, couches,
the old wooden shelf
from CA to OK
in 2,000 miles
reminiscing  backtracks
as we await our trial
" Guilty as skin "
was all they said
skin of burnt bronze
lamb's wool on our heads
could do the town good
but must sleep in the shed
eat your leftovers
crusts of your bread
Oh no!
not us, we won't be still
dissolve into waters
like pills of painkill
we will rise
and rise again
and again
we shall begin
fighting within
against a sin
our own true sign of origin.