In chains trying to make change
Arrange for a plane to far away plains
In vain he hopes to stand
On his two feet but love, he cannot believe. So much pressure he bought it no receipt. I got these white collars stressing me, telling me, wear your tie pick up your feet, please, my ancestors didn't fight to see, me, 36 floors up fashion hanging me, from the metaphorical tree. No they won't see me groveling on my knees. I'm a proud black man dyeing to be, free, and its funny cause we all dyeing to be, something, and time don't cease and we just micro-living in peace, or pain, or plain vanilla.

(Columbus day)
In a noose finding proof
Board a boat to a faraway moat
Round we go, at least he's afloat
In a sea of uncertainty,
certainly, he can handle what he see's
But what about what he feels
I don't know what's worse.
The loss or the hurt.
I see the day as the end of natural earth.
Borders crossed never to be returned.
The order was established I'm still fellin the aftershock. They mock my art, mock my creativity, try to mock the essence of me. But in a sense its good, I guess, allowing free expression to get this stress off my chest. Blessed I feel every day to know I aint got to go. The box that surrounds me is just metaphorical. Even the rules in place are deplorable, meanin ignorable. If it don't help it hurt and the new jim crow need some work. But as long as I can escape it, as long as I can break out the box, as long as I can stand on two feet, the oppressor will never catch me on my knees in a noose or fighting to get loose. My mind is already liberated, my education has focused my hatred, and I realized they the ones that need the savin.