I found her, at the crossing of 17th and 184th street,
and there was an alternative road passing through called 4,47th
where was i supposed to go?
I made a choice though, to stay with her
and her friend,
to party a little,

founded by her father by his friend and his people
was the factory right across,
burning rubber and making dreams,

speaking in Greek they picked me up
and put me on a pick-up truck,
driving me off down that 4,47,
so this was not a choice of my own free will you see,

I told the natives of this cruel land,
the farmers of independence who lived here,
the fighters for religion who served here,
the criminals of literature who served their time here,
the convicts of rights that were held victims here,

and I did not come voluntarily,
I did not choose to be a part of this country you call 'home',
I did not ask for your freedom,

I was abolished for what I thought was my right to say,
I was killed in the name of rights,
I was hated for what I thought was not a crime,
I was mislead by those I thought was right,
I never had an opportunity to set things right,

this land is your land, and I want nothing to do with it,
my land was never acted upon like your land,
I am proud to be a citizen of my land!
And I wish to return to the crossing of 17th and 184th street,
get me back, and I'm riding up front this time.