In current-day dealing with concerns of race
I wonder with whom on Earth I can relate?
Am I deeper entwined with receivers of hate?
Or am I "just White for goodness sake?"
I once was hated, in times that have past
My skin was light-colored, but they still saw trash
And it was in my slave quarters my heart longed for dark lass
Who was sold off soon after, so the love didn't last.
Earlier, I saw brothers enslaved and killed
By men colorless with ill gain as motivation and will
I ducked down underneath my own windowsill
Me and my also white slaves escaped with the till
At a younger time yet, far as my memory knows
I knew only my tribe and the field's edge, so,
Fellow White caused all strife for most my life and, lo,
I've forgotten and blame wrong for some problems now, though.