I'll move back
Then I'll belong
Where the land is beautiful… the streets are as clear as  Lazarus' soul
There I’ll meet my maker, the mother land.
Where I'll belong.
Hold conversations at the top of her hills,
But I’ll come with unwanted baggage, sneaked in from the airport- from a foreign land, to my father’s home,
The luggage is questions, its analysis, its rights, it’s not knowing I have a set place in this society
The land will try to beat these things out of me