Wishes based on race
By the segregation that divides
Is like a half-life, that cuts like a fish in the sea
Pieces of man, cut into flesh and bone
The sins for which the white man has to atone for
Is in the brown-eyed soul of a disillusioned handsome man
Biased on blues, radiating the whites of their eyes
The skin so pale
The flagging it with any banner
Would make a political motto
Seem like a motto for gender fluidity
If you believe in yourself
Be a part of what you are, instead of being sexually minute
Your own stronghold on words is bullish rhetoric
And when we almost died inside
We marked our territory by identification of face
Our existence simply a consequence of racial profiling
What matters is that we bleed our own music?
That's called freedom of thought in this century of post-modernism