Brown Dream Social Revolution - Latino Civil Rights USH by Paul Flores Lyrics
[Verse 1] This is a true story about a brown dream sinking to the bottom of the Tigris Euphrates
This is a brown dream.
[Verse 2] It was Francisco's last night out with his friends the three of them on their way to see the latest sci-fi movie. They were driving. A stereo jocking the newest top 40 rapper, because that was all he listened to. But it didn't matter.
[Verse 3] Music was only part of the setting and not the motivation for late night brainstorms about how to make money, or how to escape the feeling of being left out of a dream so many painted red white and blue.
[Verse 4] But his dream was brown. Brown as his skin. Brown and impure. Brown as Eve's apple after she took the first bite. Brown as the everlasting blur of English, African and Indian moving through the forests of this continent four hundred years ago before it was known as destiny. Before he had ever heard the word immigrant, beaner, spic, stupid, dirty. Before he had ever dreamt of assimilation.
[Verse 5] He is 18, and Mexican. He is in San Diego, Topeka, Buffalo, San Antonio, Oakland, CA. He wants a piece of the American Dream.
[Verse 6] Francisco wanted a college degree. He wanted to be a professional, a stockbroker, or FBI agent, because those were the jobs with the most power. If he could have been a rock star or a super hero there would have been no need to enlist. But he had to be a U.S. citizen if he was going to make a living like them.
[Verse 7] The Army recruiter at his high school told him that if he served in the military he could automatically become a U.S. citizen. After four years duty and an honorable discharge there would be plenty of money left over for him to continue his education at a good institution. Or he could take his technical skills as a tank operator or small weapons expertise and apply them to a civilian job.
[Verse 8] It was exciting; Brown boy who wasn't even a citizen, who had only been a resident five years, who didn't know much about education, was now willing to die to become a student.
[Verse 9] One year later he was working on a tank unit fighting in Iraq. Francisco heard it was the second time the president had invaded this nation. They were driving in the desert. They were taking fire, swerving. The tank lost control and headed straight into the river.
[Verse 10] As Francisco's lungs filled up with water he remembered his last night out with his friends; How is mother had wanted to cook dinner for him but he didn't want to spend another hour in that cramped apartment where she cooked for six of his brothers, his two uncles and their compadres. Instead Francisco invited Jose and Diego out to the movies because that's what Americans did.
[Verse 11] Now his soul is an ancestor in the Euphrates. Chicano blood mixing with Arab soil, returning to the Garden of Eden by way of the U.S. Army, same way it had come.
[Verse 12] Only this time, he would finally receive something he had been promised: An officially sealed envelope on top of Old Glory. Citizenship was never earned so graciously. Even, if it comes posthumously at least extend it to the victim's family! The reality of the American Dream is dirty. Why should Chicanos have to die to earn the approval of this society?
[Verse 13] This is a brown dream. Brown as the bus riders union. Brown as gasoline. Brown as the Tigris-Euphrates The Mississippi, and the Rio Grande. Brown as coyotes. Brown as blood soaked sands in Iraq and on the ranches of Arizona border vigilantes. Brown as Affirmative Action in the military but not the university.
This is a brown dream.
[Verse 2] It was Francisco's last night out with his friends the three of them on their way to see the latest sci-fi movie. They were driving. A stereo jocking the newest top 40 rapper, because that was all he listened to. But it didn't matter.
[Verse 3] Music was only part of the setting and not the motivation for late night brainstorms about how to make money, or how to escape the feeling of being left out of a dream so many painted red white and blue.
[Verse 4] But his dream was brown. Brown as his skin. Brown and impure. Brown as Eve's apple after she took the first bite. Brown as the everlasting blur of English, African and Indian moving through the forests of this continent four hundred years ago before it was known as destiny. Before he had ever heard the word immigrant, beaner, spic, stupid, dirty. Before he had ever dreamt of assimilation.
[Verse 5] He is 18, and Mexican. He is in San Diego, Topeka, Buffalo, San Antonio, Oakland, CA. He wants a piece of the American Dream.
[Verse 6] Francisco wanted a college degree. He wanted to be a professional, a stockbroker, or FBI agent, because those were the jobs with the most power. If he could have been a rock star or a super hero there would have been no need to enlist. But he had to be a U.S. citizen if he was going to make a living like them.
[Verse 7] The Army recruiter at his high school told him that if he served in the military he could automatically become a U.S. citizen. After four years duty and an honorable discharge there would be plenty of money left over for him to continue his education at a good institution. Or he could take his technical skills as a tank operator or small weapons expertise and apply them to a civilian job.
[Verse 8] It was exciting; Brown boy who wasn't even a citizen, who had only been a resident five years, who didn't know much about education, was now willing to die to become a student.
[Verse 9] One year later he was working on a tank unit fighting in Iraq. Francisco heard it was the second time the president had invaded this nation. They were driving in the desert. They were taking fire, swerving. The tank lost control and headed straight into the river.
[Verse 10] As Francisco's lungs filled up with water he remembered his last night out with his friends; How is mother had wanted to cook dinner for him but he didn't want to spend another hour in that cramped apartment where she cooked for six of his brothers, his two uncles and their compadres. Instead Francisco invited Jose and Diego out to the movies because that's what Americans did.
[Verse 11] Now his soul is an ancestor in the Euphrates. Chicano blood mixing with Arab soil, returning to the Garden of Eden by way of the U.S. Army, same way it had come.
[Verse 12] Only this time, he would finally receive something he had been promised: An officially sealed envelope on top of Old Glory. Citizenship was never earned so graciously. Even, if it comes posthumously at least extend it to the victim's family! The reality of the American Dream is dirty. Why should Chicanos have to die to earn the approval of this society?
[Verse 13] This is a brown dream. Brown as the bus riders union. Brown as gasoline. Brown as the Tigris-Euphrates The Mississippi, and the Rio Grande. Brown as coyotes. Brown as blood soaked sands in Iraq and on the ranches of Arizona border vigilantes. Brown as Affirmative Action in the military but not the university.
This is a brown dream.