This land is mine.
I stay here, started my career.
I have seen wanderers, on this land.
I assumed they were sugar in the milk.
But if there is a brighter tomorrow,
A colour for them and us
A line to be drawn between you and me,
I assume the land would have eyes to see.
This land is mine, you're waiting for yours,
Memories are made of a political force,
The milk should be warm, and the sugar brown,
I assume you can stay in this town.
Thinking of you, I remember things,
Such as religious beliefs and suspicious inklings,
The pattern of your beard, the bleeding men in the park.
I don't know what you think,
I assume you were not sure.
This land is between an object and
You're the first to comment on its beauty and on its sleeping beast,
My land depends upon the issuance of a game,
Don't worry about the troubling nature of your shame.
This land is mine, linked to many souls,
The source of warmth and of heat,
The fire resembles the state of pride,
I assume the conflict of interests would subside.
This land is mine, welcome hither,
Posters and flyers bubbling thither.