They're in my bed and in my head
they hold me when I'm scared
not to comfort or make me feel better
but to let me know they are always with me
Wherever I go, wherever I hide
they're always by my side.

The monsters are so slimy and slick
they hide themselves in my textbooks
disguising themselves as history
and facts and stats when in fact they've distorted
the truth and are using it to trap me
in a live of servitude and poverty
while they spend the fruits of my labour
on voyages to faraway lands filled with splendor.
The monsters are not under my bed
they live in the wings of the patriotic bird.

The monsters live amongst the paperwork
that litters the cupboards in their fort
while their gates keep lost souls out.
They look down on real people
with real dreams and ambitions
and they judge us for our ability
to admit that our current location
has no infrastructure to make a provision
for futures as bright as ours.
The monsters are not under my bed
they inside the insensitive embassies
and call themselves immigration policies.

The monsters were never under my bed
they looked down upon my black face
and decided that poverty was my fate
then they left work and got on a jet
for a vacation in the beautiful land of Sheiks
and expected me to roll over and play dead
but instead like a champion I held up my head
and continued to claim my share
of the wealth they stole from my land
and made them wish they lived under my bed.
while I carried their heads on a stake.