Daddy came here for a new life,
brought us along to,
across the border,
legally we came through.
We got a tiny shack, a single bed & blanket
We've lived like this for so long,
I just can't take it.
He told us we'd get wealthy,
told us that we'd smile,
I spend my days sorting crop piles...
We have a jar in the kitchen,
for coins we might get,
it's always been empty,
open-mouthed, just gaping,
with emptiness.
At school, there's others like  us,
skin like the trunks of trees,
they are the ones we hang with, amigos,
homies.
Daddy talks about the "American Dream",
curses it, praises it, tells us stories,
tells us that one day, we'll indulge, in all the world has to offer,

But I am almost 18, and enough of this world I've already seen.

For us, there will be no "American Dream."