Oregon, whoever I am found a part of me in you
Pink lace in the underbrush on the side of the road
Grew my food from Mother Earth god damn my flow was true

Dead leaves all year around come down from the trees, come back to the ground
Bruised my knees tearing up this garden bed
Stirring new life into what was dead
Now I'm proud

Black jean cutoffs rolled above the leg
Long blade shining high upon your waist
Dried blood-mud caked all around your mouth
Tell the truth now do not shout it out
When it's too late