See my papers at the point
you wanna search me, plant a joint?
You see my face from far away
already know what you will say.
You see my hair
my skin my boots
You got opinions
bout my roots,
Think i’m coming to pick fruit?
I’d like to stay, you’d rather shoot.
Tried the straight route
tried the line
Stood there for days
with papers signed.
While those denied
walked past and cried
Aloud the sound
Hot tip leakers
farmers, mothers, drivers, preachers.
Plead their case, every day weaker
400 miles on foot and bleaker
is the future.
They put sutures
Over wounds from sponsored shooters,
They call troopers.
While drug movers
While the looters
Give their rhetoric a booster.
Is to run! Run child and leap
The fence, or crawl, stow or creep
out of this land they work to keep
A ruined model for some speech
A tattered nation schools will teach
The blood of millions? they’ll use bleach.
White wash the story
Build another laboratory
In some foreign territory
Privatized by predatory
Cooks of poison, pushing sin
Sip their blood as you cash in.
On the news, trying not to grin,
I came to play fair, but you’d rather win.
I know the rules
you got tools
To walk your borders,
staff your schools
Wave your flag like prideful fools
Keep up the masquerade for ghouls.
I’d rather live free and work hard
You’d rather deny me a card.
How can I
respect the process
When all levels
block our progress?
Back in line, or back of truck?
Stay and starve or run and duck?
Dodge a minuteman or stuck?
Sound like the choices of the fucked.
Tired, hungry, wearing thin,
I could play fair, but you’d rather win.