My mother’s people rousted about for oil
In migratory circles through the south
Over Oklahoma scrub and dust
Tectonic tiles of sundried Texas mud
Scarred land dirty with blood
My father’s people drilled into their soil
For cobalt in the Khuzistan plateau
Where buried deeper still, congealed in pools
Lay viscous hydrocarbon, fossil fuel
The crude remains of blood
They were rich who owned the patch of mountain
Finest Persian turquoise veined with iron
They were bold who roughnecked up the riggings
Intermingling vital streams that flood
through enemies by blood
I was born and raised on opposing plains
Where blood and oil undermined our faith
In patriots who bartered in our name
And squandered ignorant armies for the right
To mine the bloody claim
