I was a small soul; my family was too.
Life in the adjacent northwestern was deviant, souls had nowhere to go.
Livelihood is grim in the old-green warm.
God will provide, my mom said.

My parents ambitioned a greater life for me and my brothers.
It's the classic fable- an alluring call of intergalactic aliens.
We packed our things and headed towards the Big Apple
God will provide, my mom said.

I came to the US when I was 8, I did not know my fate.
Mouths moved differently to what I thought was great.
We possess nothing, our family was afraid.
God will provide, my mom said.

We slept on the floor; the nights were cold.
Alone, me and my brothers were.
The American dream is towards where we go.
God did provide, my mom said.