Frank - Rheostatics

Mother said we can’t have this

Why don’t you just kiss? Oh oh oh

She scraped the plate clean with her knife and said

«You won’t be eating this.» Oh oh oh

Paper said that you were a thumb

That I was a fist. Oh oh oh

We traded dead, bottled, and fucked

But we didn’t get pissed. Oh oh oh

The salt upon your lips was sweet

Put it on repeat

I was born on an Indian shore

Sure as the day is long

As a tree is strong. Oh oh oh

It’s not about coming in first

It’s about getting along. Oh oh oh

We swam across the lake

And laid our clothes on the ground. Oh oh oh

They’ll get you here if you are white

They’ll smoke you there if you’re brown. Oh oh oh

Your brothers later would show me their fists

Remember this:

I was born on an Indian shore

What’s the matter with the world?

You say art. You say die

What’s the matter with the boy?

You ask why. He wouldn’t cry

He couldn’t cry

The city lying over the hill

Like a giant asleep. Oh oh oh

I wound my way back to your house

Was too frightened to sleep. Oh oh oh

The paper said that I was a fake

That it was murder or rape. Oh oh oh

Your body floated still as a leaf

Your hand as cold as a snake’s. Oh oh oh

The whole world’s going out of it’s mind

Put it on rewind

I was born on an Indian shore