That could have been my brother,
bleeding on foreign dirt
taking his last breath
long away from his journey back home.
bleeding on foreign dirt
taking his last breath
long away from his journey back home.
They even look alike,
Only Mitch had over twenty years on him,
Family on Dutch soil,
Children who'll never go to the beach
with their father anymore.
Only Mitch had over twenty years on him,
Family on Dutch soil,
Children who'll never go to the beach
with their father anymore.
That could have been my brother,
I always worried when he barked out a storm,
His loudness just the creation of our culture,
walking through those same streets,
with that stubborn head held up high.
That could have been my brother,
And I too would have demanded justice at their front doors--
But with buckets full of never-ending tears
with the cries of a mourning mother.
I always worried when he barked out a storm,
His loudness just the creation of our culture,
walking through those same streets,
with that stubborn head held up high.
That could have been my brother,
And I too would have demanded justice at their front doors--
But with buckets full of never-ending tears
with the cries of a mourning mother.
It's the only sentence on a loop on the track-list of my mind;
"It could have been my brother..."
It could have been.
But-
It can still be me.
It can still be you.
"It could have been my brother..."
It could have been.
But-
It can still be me.
It can still be you.