I am brown/Brown, dirt is brown/They think I am dirt, dust/
They clean me out from underneath their fingernails/Wrinkle their noses in disgust/
But no, I am brown/Brown, black soil, fertile/I am soil/I am your roots/Without me no trees/No oxygen for you to breathe…
Got my hands up while you got a bulletproof vest./From the way you were shooting, I’d think I’d had an X on my chest.
America the free, land of the brave./Built up and carried by the legions of slaves.
Lacquered acrylics fix beneath silk/Constricting around cranium/
Sustaining the days’ style, for the morning/I lay my head upon my pillow
Resting my eyes/And putting to sleep all of my worries that lay beneath my hair.