What I always dreamt in my head,
white folks running and playing in the white snow.
Drinking ginger beer and talking about how lovely the weather is.
Baking pies every Sunday morning.
But for me, I have no advantage of that.
What is snow? I've never seen it. How does ginger beer taste, is it sweet n' bitter?
How's their weather? Our weather is musk and steamed.
What kind of pie, blueberry or cherry?
I get the rust bucket of it all.
We have no snow, no ginger beer, bland weather, and no pie.
Instead, I get bruises from the colonials.
From head ***** hair to ached feet, I'm bruised.
I would love to feel snow, sip on some ginger beer, feel different weathers, and eat pie every morning.
That'll be a gift.
Too bad they run us. We have no say.
We get dry sand, ***** water, hot weather, and no food every morning.
I'd rather deal with that then be bruised black and blue.