If you've never seen the distance in an immigrant's eyes Then you've never seen resistance in the form of a cry He decided it was time to bring the drought to an end A sojourner, soul searchin', from whom I descend Put his life inside his pockets Leavin on a plane Living long lonely nights Children, wife left in labor pains Tirelessly trying to provide He applies dialectics to fight for the slice of a pie But this life was premised on a lie Instead of being promised by society The nature of economy is sodomy Ten generations of poverty turn to poverty later And a third world diploma Not even worth the paper it's written on With no elevators going up to the top, y'all Instead it's long days spent slavin' over hourly wages And when the clock strikes labor He savors the pages of letters Sent by his kinfolk Who invoke the image of what it's like to have been broke Through cigarette smoke he tries to spin hope to dreams In close to proximity to family in his memory And it's faded in between The night shifts and sleep A moment of clarity He may never come home Despite the familiarity of faces from his homeland Who speak the same dialect Fellow countrywomen and men Standin' in line to get green cards, visas, and pa**ports Barely making enough Over half a paycheck remitted with love Strangers keep staring With disgust and mistrust Talking ‘bout “This country's just us” No justice His hope snuffed to one day return to his town To join his ancestors in their burial ground Almost forgot how the countryside sounds But this time around, the lost are never found In the distance between home and where we live It's the distance between a mother and her kids It's the distance that keeps us apart And it's the distance between my soul and my heart