It sickens me
To think that my ancestors were *****
By greasy, shaggy men from the north
Who burned down their houses
And pilfered their precious possessions
It sickens me
To think that I am but the last domino
In a centuries long trail of *******
It sickens me
To think that my father is a *******
His father was a *******
And all my children will be *******
And it sickens me
To think that I am so proud of that fact

Within my polluted veins may be found
Perhaps only one drop of foreign blood
But that drop of blood is from an ancient heathen deity
The years have diluted it but still it fills me
With a blissful rage, my poisoned skin tingles
With the most wonderful of furies
With every beat of my tainted heart the capacity
To duel with giants and annihilate armies
Resonates around my body
I feel I have the power to rend heaven
And lacerate the landscape of hell
With just my adulterated fingernails
Because I am the pink diamond
In the pile of precious stones
I’m impure, and I’m worth nothing to the masses
But I’m just as indomitable as my kin

So if any of my fellow white men
Strut round claiming to be pure, know this:
I will take a torch to your hall, hew your head
From your chauvinistic shoulders, and hang it
From my gateway as a warning to those who dare to disbelieve
That we are all somebody’s *******