He first arrived in Beijing in the spring of 2003

A wide-eyed high school leaver from dusty Urumqi

He had no skills but was eager to learn a service or a trade

It didn't matter which career he chose, as long as he got paid.

The day before he'd boarded the train and sunk into a hard seat

Gazing out the window he saw his mother weep

But for him there was no turning back because destiny doesn't wait

Leaving the Silk Road far behind was really an excuse to escape.

The train rolled into Beijing West at dawn the following day

He learned to elbow his way through the crowd or else be led astray

Shouldering a giant rice sack that held all his possessions

He did as so many had done before and many more will do in succession.  

He worked odd jobs here and there, seven days a week

Learning the Beijing dialect so he could understand others speak

From construction sites to restaurants, he gave everything a go

Living in a dank basement because the rent was low.

His chestnut eyes hid behind windswept hair that fell across his brow

His hands bore blisters that looked as if each day he worked a plough

He learned to blend into the crowd of a city of 20 million

But never felt like much more than a second-class civilian.

He spoke to his family when he had some credit on his phone

But hearing their voices reminded him he secretly missed home

His father was indifferent but his mother would shed a tear

He assured her he was fine and would be back for Chinese New Year.

Gradually, he made some friends and even fell in love

With a girl from Gansu who lived in the apartment above

They were both shy at first until his compliments did drop

The next week they rode a bike, her on the back singing Mandopop.

His affection for his adopted home steadily did grow

Until he remembered he didn't belong because of his hukou

Seeing his peers across the street attend university

He couldn't help but think aloud, "hey, that could have been me."

He saved his money but sent some home, no matter what he earned

Some weeks he lived pay to pay but never grew concerned

As long as he had food to eat and a roof over his head

Life was better in Beijing than stuck at home instead.

He quit his job at the end of fall after a boss withheld his pay

By winter he was street sweeper to avoid being in disarray  

His birthday was spent on the road shoveling heavy snow

But he made sure he celebrated that night with a bottle of erguotou.

Time passed quickly, seasons changed, as one year became two, then three

But he always found new excuses not to return to Urumqi

"I have a new job," or "I can't get a train ticket," so he would often start

"It's fine, son. We understand," even though it would break their hearts.