They pulled them out of Rawalpindi

Nani speak Punjabi, but my momma speaking Hindi

My only inheritance is broken tongues within me

generational trauma for Punjabis and the sindhis

What's in a line, I could draw one every time

I stand in line in court when they bagged me for a crime

A sword or a nine, used to tear and divide

They took what's ours now, they say that's not mine

I dream of ghost trains with the corpses

Opposition forces, murdering on horses

Leave behind broken homes and hearts like it's porcelain

A border divorcing a soul and it's sources

A nation divided, my people they riot

I ask my dad why my grandmas so quiet

I ask my mom why my grandmas not smiling

I ask my therapist why I'm always wilding

Tears on my moms face but she's not crying

Her subconscious yearns for a home and she's trying

To figure it out but her dreams are now dying

Her mom says she doesn't remember, she's lying

They say the body keeps the score

I wish we could have kept our home but now that's no more

Refugees we went from being poor to being poor

Now i drown my pain in whiskey bottles that i pour

Sometimes I feel like Manto

I drink my pain away i stay smoking on the fronto

They try to put us on the side like Tonto

We scattered to London to New York, Toronto

PTSD for something i didn't witness

The doctor he said that i lack mental fitness

So I put it on a record like Guinness

What's in a line, i marvel at its thinness

I'm just a product of partition,

need a victims compensation fund to pay clinicians,

Need a physician or magician,

Only way to process it is write like it's my mission

This is my addition"