My father said I have my his will of stone
and my mother’s heart of gold,
with my grandmother’s powerful words,
and my grandfather’s pride, threefold.

My ancestors’ stories tell legends so old,
their stories of sorrows will fill you with woe.
If you under their words, then
you’ll understand why they define me.

If you open your mind
and listen so closely,
you might also hear my stutter
when I tell you my story.

My words, they tell history,
and history does not lie.
So if the truth’s too much to bear,
I’ll stop to draw a line.

My family was not rich,
We grew up by the sea.
My grandpa was a fisherman,
and my grandma sold cheap tea.

But in my younger mind,
my father was a prince.
My mother, the fair maiden,
that my father had to win.

My parents had to work their way up,
and in America, they were rich.
They had leather bags and leather seats,
and granted my every wish.

But when I turned ten,
the truth became clear.
We were hungry, tired, and poor.
and I knew my parents were scared.

When the scandal hit the papers,
our name became a curse.
The day my father started smoking
was the beginning of the worst.

It drove my mother crazy,
and she found peace in illegal highs
until she took too much,
and went beyond the sky.

I’m sixteen years old
and my name’s in the news.
They call me the only daughter
of Cupertino’s dirtiest two.

They only see the bad,
I wish they knew the truth,
about father’s charity,
and what my mother used to do.

I wish they opened their eyes,
the way I hope you’re doing right now.
I wish they would understand
that my father never wanted this crown.

My name is a heavy burden,
but still, I’ll carry it with pride.
It’s made me walk a little slower,
but it will never break my stride.