Takin my little voyage again.
Thinkin back into my childhood land.
Drinkin the white milk she forced me to.
Hersheys chocolate syrup on sundays, too.
Pourintasteless white milk into the sink.
Hopin that grandma didnt see me doin it.
Couldnt drink nothin without color in it.
Hatin colorless society and provin it.
Watching too much t.v for a chinese girl.
Living in a new country called america.
Yes shes beautiful, shes got her spacious skies.
But what about the ugly parts the conquerors hide?
A bowl of rice is a bowl of memories.
Shovin it down our hungry throats.
A cup of tea is a cup of tears.
Floodin down our thirsty throats.
So i write a song to keep.
The memories of you and me.
It shall keep us warm at night.
Even though youre out of sight .
Being hit in first grade by a little black girl.
I knew she felt trapped in her unjust world.
She needed someone to beat
Because she too was being beat.
By the same society i learned later dreaded me.
The eyelinei was blessed with made me feel superior.
Watchinsisters slice up theirs.who felt inferior?
Things are not the same when the east meets the west.
A foggy glimpse is what they got of 美国 beautiful west.
A bowl of rice is a bowl of memories.
Shovin it down our hungry throats.
A cup of tea is a cup of tears.
Floodin down our thirsty throats.
So i write a song to keep.
The memories of you and me.
It shall keep us warm at night.
Even though youre out of sight .
A bowl of rice is a bowl of memories.
Shovinit down our hungry throats.
A cup of tea is a cup of tears.
Floodin down our thirsty throats.
So i write a song to keep.
The memories of you and me.
It shall keep us warm at night.
Even though youre out of sight .