What They Speak Of

They speak of food that has yet touched my lips 

They speak of mountains I have never seen 

They speak of churches where I have yet to pray 

And people I have yet to meet 

They speak of music I have never heard

A language I can barely speak 

History I have only learned 

History that runs far too deep 

And all the things I may never know 

so your empire can grow 

My ancestors who died 

so that yours could build 

over our graves and our memories,

over your own dirty history

But that's what you wished;

To Leave me with only the things they speak of