Honduras

I'm swallowed by the silver bird,
And hatched into a silver land,
Of golden hills and humble men
Who never touch the slight of hand.

Hand to hand, ear to ear,
Between us grows a brand new heart,
And soon it is that all I hear's
The crash of distance come apart.

Another me arises then
To face the silver bird again.
I see my face and know my eyes,
But other blood's beneath my skin.

An alien in my mother's land,
The world's heart within my breast,
Will either share the silver here,
Or break in giving it my best.