This holy ground seems
So profound,
But we don't tip-toe.
See, we stomp around,
Like a marching band
On this sacred land.
It wasn't taught to us,
We won't understand.
It wasn't brought to us.
We don't get the plan.
We got many thoughts
And ideas shoved
In these minds of ours,
But they say we're lost.
They gon hate on us,
Claim we'll break their trust,
But the truth is
They hate our youthful lust.
They loathe the little spark
In the eyes of ours.
We don't want no war,
So they call us cowards.
And because our lives
Are more simplified,
They think their attitudes
Are quite justified.
But in the thick of it,
If our skin is "thin,"
Then their hearts are cold.
So, who could ever win?