beyond the killing field,
a quarter of a century after the genocide.
after 2 million people murdered,
the other 5 million survive.
the fabric of the culture,
beauty drips the texture.
i find myself in Long Beach,
the next Cambodian mecca.
beside srox Khmer, whale shrie Angkor Wat,
some people still struggling,
on the aftermath of Pol POt.
for some futures so bright, looks like high beams,
for other are lost in the American Dream.
for me it seems i'm on the road to no-where fast.
hitting speed bumps, drive'n in circles,
vehicle running out of gas.
they're a gap in our generation,
between the adults and kids.
but since i'm bilingual,
i'ma use communication as a bridge.
first i'ma knock down the walls,
between me and my parents,
listens to their stories an all
with out interference.
what they experience,
was evil at its darkest form.
their mind, body and heart,
shattered and torn.
the trauma of the war,
effect the refugee and foreigner.
suffering from deep depression,
post traumatic stress disorder.
it's a new world order,
new threats that we're facing.
terrorist and INS deportation.
you can try to fight it go ahead be my guest,
cause its one strike and your out of the U.S.
theres an epidemic thats killing us surely.
over things we don't even own,
like blocks and territories.
so call "OG" recruiting young ones.
jumping them in gangs,
giving them use guns.
not even old enuff to speak,
already hold'n heat,
walk'n a dangerous route,
talk'n about "code of the streets".

seek and your'll find,
the truth is where me hearts at.
i'm speak'm my mind,
and let my rhyme design this art of fact,
line to line from front to back,
from the heart of praCh,
comes the "art of faCt".

i've been asleep snore'n,
now i've awake'n from my nap.
my brain been storming,
so i put on my think'n cap.
digging deeper into my mind,
at times i find it hard to hack.
but i'm a messenger this time,
delivering you this "art of faCt ".
fast track, racers love cars,
spending every dollars and cents.
getting it all fix up, mix up in bad investments.
but thats there choice to choose,
some parents are still comfuse,
the different between,
discipline and child abuse.
i use to get whip and hit,
with wire and ta-bong.
it use to be a family matter,
until the law got involved.
for boys hang'n out,
thats ok, unlimited minutes.
for girls; what you talk'n about,
thats prohibited.
some is scared of it,
pushing them to the edge.
some parents still believe in,
fixing up marriage.
i inherited all of this,
the knowledge of the faCts.
being a Khmer that i am,
i feel the weight on my back.
but look what we're building,
right here in Long Beach.
a Cambodian Town,
down Anaheim streets.
the seed has been planted,
the foundation has been laid,
all it take is time,
and " wha-la " its all great!
i was raised not to be raciest,
so my judgement is color blind fold.
to judge one by their action,
and keep that mind frame on hold!
we're gonna stick together,
like cook rice in a bowl.
open stores, markets,
products, merchandise...sold!
Business Bureau and Agencies,
to Chamber of Commerce.
fields in teaching, medicals to law,
yall we even running for offices.
there hope in the kids,
their learning faster then we did,
traditional dances to classical music.
old method is still used,
you get sick, you get coined.
New Year Celebration,
every body in the world come and join.
i am proud to say;
" i'm a Khmer " with pride.
because i praCh,
refuse to let me culture die!

seek and your'll find,
the truth is where my heart at.
i'm speak'n my mind
and let my rhyme design this art of faCt.
line to line, from front to back.
from the heart of praCh,
come this " art of faCt."

from : " DALAMA...the lost chapter."