I’m from rednecks and hillbillies, fancy pants and valid Victorians
I’m from Italians and Puerto Ricans, French and African Americans
I’m from slackers and hard workers, from man up and pipe down
I’m from the hills underneath the horizon
I’m from truckers and paralegals, from nurses and chefs
I’m from ignorance and arrogance, from happy marriages and ugly divorces
I’m from potheads and druggies, from alcoholics and drunks
I’m from fancy parties and birthday bashes, from roast beef and pizza
I’m from heavy metal to soft ballads, from country and rap
I’m from work since you’re nine and never working in your life
I’m from Christians in front pews every Sunday morning
I’m from bada**es and goody-2-shoes
I’m from fighting and quilting, from cops and fabrics
I’m from murders and jail cells, farm boys and fields
I’m from farming and shopping
I’m from cheerleading and lacrosse, from Saturday nights at the football stadium
I’m from family and friends, from people who support my every move
I’m from adoption and real families who couldn’t afford another
I’m from the people who love me, from people who accept me for me
I’m from the lock steps of society, not knowing where I fit in, in between the gray lines of different cliques, all of which tend to accept me,
I’m from the Crispell family tree, a bud snapped before growing