Born in the city of the rumbling tough,
child of refugees,
victims of a past when there wasn't enough
left a lasting legacy.
Living in the middle of my mama's pride
in her two elder sons,
casting an occasional eye at me,
saying that I had to become
Like my brothers:
Be as smart as a man,
but don't ever be too bold;
Have a career until you're twenty-two years old,
then go and find a special kind of guy
who will be
like your brothers.
Well, I didn't grow up in the usual way,
I was a loner from the start;
living in a crowd of my imaginary friends,
singing the songs of my heart.
No, I didn't want to study from the books at school,
I had to do things my own way,
'cause nothing ever could be good enough
to keep from hearing her say:
Chorus:
Be like your brothers:
Be as smart as a man,
but don't ever be too bold;
Have a career until you're twenty-two years old,
then go and find a special kind of guy
who will be
like your brothers.
Now, the brothers, they were both so classy and cool:
The had the looks, the charm, the pizzazz.
The one wrote fiction in his high-school years,
the other played the blues and jazz;
while the daughter, she could hit a mean stickball,
she told the best jokes on the block,
but you know, that never gets you to a state of success,
or keeps your mama from a state of shock.
Chorus
Well, the first son became a doctor,
the second's in academe.
Took the broken refugee past,
turned it into the American Dream.
While the daughter, she had a set of rules of her own,
she had a heart that liked to fly free.
So here I am now, singing to my brothers,
"maybe you should be like me!"
Chorus:
Be like a sister:
Go riding the waves,
sail into the sun,
find the wisdom of the earth
beneath the men you've become
and be the special kind of guys I know you to be:
My brothers, my brothers, my brothers.