Who's that hiding in our hallowed past
the one in which our genes were cast.
Could there be an haunting ember
a witch that burned during November?
Or could it be a shinning knight
one that died in a crusade fight?
But maybe one hung from a tree
stealing horse's and trying to flee.
Better yet from some royal blood
or one who escaped the mighty flood.
A sheriff from out of the old wild west
one who pledged to do his best.
Why are we who we seem to be
is it because of who's in our family tree?
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