Why is it we are captives here?
Kidnapped from God's crib1
Then sequestered far from home
A long and fateful trip.
They paid the native boys in dimes
Then put us on the market for
Five digits more, a NAFTA crime.
We know we're here for singing
Our colors aren't so bright
Their cellphones ring exactly as we sing.
Yet we will never hate them
Our bodies made to resonate
The joy and praises of the One
Who fashioned love within our breasts
No bars can e'r restrain.