It's in my blood, it's in my hands
This is my great-grandfather's land
The earth is sacred where we lightly walk
From there to here
Half of a floor left and some rusted nails
A run down shed and a dry well
A sleeping history of generations
From there to here
This is where I'm from
And we will pass it on
So take it as it comes
Cause it belongs to me
Fields of corn have turned to weeds
The wind now whispers so serenely
It is haunted by the children that have turned into fathers...From there to here
I wish my eyes could trace the years
To watch the stories I now hear
But in our words they are still alive and we have not lost anything...from there to here
