Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe.
There's people always dying trying to keep them alive.
There's bodies decomposing in containers tonight..
In an abandoned building where..
The squatters made a mural of a Mexican girl.
With fifteen cans of spray paint in a chemical swirl.
She's standing in the ashes at the end of the world.
Four Winds blowing through her hair.
The Bible's blind. The Torah's deaf. The Qu'ran is mute.
If you burned them all together you’d get close to the truth.
Still they’re pouring over Sanskrit under Ivy League moons..
While shadows lengthen in the sun.
Cast on a school and meditation built to soften the times..
And hold us at the center while the spiral unwinds.
It's knocking over fences, crossing property lines.
Four Winds cry until it comes.
Well I went back by rented Cadillac and company jet.
Like a newly orphaned refugee retracing my steps.
All the way to Cassadaga to commune with the dead.
They said, "You'd better look alive".
And now it’s off to old Dakota where a genocide sleeps..
In the Black Hills, the Badlands, the calloused East.
I buried my ballast. I made my peace..
Her Four Winds leveling the pines//
My President Is Black.
In Fact,
He's Half-White.
So Even In A Racist Mind, He's Half-Right.
So If You Got A Racist Mind, You Be Alright*
My President Is Black, But His House Is All White.
Rosa Parks Sat So Martin Luther Could Walk.
Martin Luther Walked So Barack Obama Could Run.
Barack Obama Ran So All The Children Could Fly.
So I'ma Spread My Wings, You Can Meet Me In The Sky.
My president is black, my Lambo's blue,
And I'll be goddamned if my rims ain't too.
My money's light green, and my Jordans light grey,
And They love to see white, now how much you tryna pay?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)