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Track 9 of Animus Session: The Dead of Winter.
lyrics
Chorus 1
"My son, don't you ever forget where you came from.
Far from me, in the land of Dreams, remember your culture isn't poor.
In streets paved with gold, where opportunity is sold,
Please keep my words close to your soul"
Verse 1
My father's last words as I began to leave,
In search of a better chance to succeed.
I'd packed my bags, I'd aced my tests,
In school they knew me as the best.
Now I'm in this new world,
Where people choose to ignore,
Those who are different from them,
Recovering from culture shock, can't seem to readjust,
To these people on my bus.
I miss my old friends, I miss my family,
I miss just walking on the streets
In my own country where the people were familiar,
I keep all these feelings in me.
Pain deep within, drowned in excessive things,
So I don't feel a thing.
Like Cocaine on my tongue,
I numbed myself to my thoughts,
So I can focus on my work.
Chorus 2
"My son, I know you won't forget where you came from,
Far from me, in the land of dreams, keep your people's values still pure,
In streets paved with pyrite, know opportunity is your right,
Hold my words fast in your mind!"
Verse 2
I paid heed to those words so I could live
A life much better than he.
I never did think I would have to deal
With claims that we sleep on trees.
From the same black people who 50 years ago
Still had to face racism.
Looking down on my own neighbors or those of my kind,
It's all part of A Foreigner's Mind.
And with that, I hope I gave you a glimpse
Into A Foreigner's Mentality.
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