On the 86 at dawn,
schoolbag hanging low,
different lunches in our hands,
same road, same old road.
Mum says, keep your head up,
Dad says, hold your name,
but the boys at the oval
misread it every day.
So we learned to stand our ground,
learned to bite back clean,
learned a bruise can make you loud
when you’re finding what you mean.
I belong here, I belong here
Different skin, same heart
I belong here, I belong here
We bend, we break, we rise
We grew up under hard skies
At the fish-and-chip counter,
they asked where I came from,
said my face looked borrowed,
said my name sounded wrong.
But Nan kept her stories
in a cracked old tin,
and every scar in the family
made room for what’s within.
So we learned to stand our ground,
learned to turn the stare,
learned the world can cut you once
then teach you how to care.
I belong here, I belong here
Different skin, same heart
I belong here, I belong here
We bend, we break, we rise
We grew up under hard skies
And conflict lit the edges
of the people we became,
it gave us stronger voices,
it taught us how to name
the shame, the fear, the silence,
the weight behind the door,
then we stepped out taller
than we’d ever stood before.
I belong here, I belong here
Different skin, same heart
I belong here, I belong here
We bend, we break, we rise
We grew up under hard skies
