We are urged by some
to believe that our history
is not our destiny.

Stop believing what those liars say;
the millions of ghosts
inside me
beg to differ.

I know a dance, an old dance,
I’m willing to try,
something I’ll use
to turn the world
upside down.

I’ve got a shirt, an old shirt,
I’m willing to wear —
something designed
for the big dance
and the afterparty.

I know a song, an old song
I’m ready to sing —
something written
just for the occasion,
a keening joyful sound;

my song’s got a chorus
millions and millions strong
singing of history
as prelude to destiny.

Stop believing what the liars say;

history’s proven
our ghosts
more honest
than theirs.