Born stranger in a place where the official language didn't belong,

The only one that I knew and felt so wrong.

The same old streets and a fountain's place,

With no running water like the tears on my face.

Music, my companion on this urban journey,

Guide, lover, teacher, from distant lands arrived,

Hailed from places I had yet to roam,

Yet deep within, they were already home.

The foreign verse was digging my head

Digging displaced, sometimes replaced by a sense of dread.

I look too different from the suburban peripheral type,

Out of the hype, mostly shyte for the people of the night.

I did adapt and hide behind the masks I wear,

Familiar faces I should say but if you dare

Relaxing, bare for a second, they will get you:

Born strange and stranger, you're looking for danger

Hear the same rhyming of a foreign verse

Not by the men or the women you take to bed

But for the smell of your foreign soul instead

There is no valley claiming their flag

As a true patriot, I shed all attire,

Burning it with every flag in a washing fire.

Weirdness full-blown

Werewolf full-moon

I houl at the first strike of a piano chord

You know what, I can roll,

Flip back, play dead, give paw

But I won't do, cause I'm a cat bro

I can't negotiate my true sense of nature

For an economy class seat in a fancy theater.

So lend me your hand let's head to

This wee road trip that I do,

No need get a 1000 million miles under you heels

Just steer and see how it feels.

And if you listen well it's you I'm taking about

Like all the men and the women in and out

The mould of the planet or as Chuck said once

The crap of this world all joined in a dance

Hear the same rhyming of a foreign verse

Not by the men or the women you take to bed

But for the smell of your foreign soul instead

(There is no valley claiming their flag)

If a valley, volcano, river, and stone,

Bear no insignia, no claim of their own,

As a true patriot, I shed all attire,

Burning every flag in a washing fire.