I have no desire to take the reigns...
I don't even want the wind...
That's your family tree...
I've traced my roots...
...13th Century beeline...
...and to think I was almost named Fred... twice...
No, I’m thankful I'm grey...
...like the rain on my face

My people didn't sail the seven seas
in ships powered by the breeze
or die of white man's disease
and beg on wounded knees

They taught me to love
and the songs they sing
are truer than Faeries
and every bit as magickal

I never asked for my inheritance
I never asked for solitude
I never asked to be born this late
I never asked to be understood
I only ask for a pen, some paper, a broken heart and rain
I need it to rain
I need it to rain