Who broke into the stores on the street
If it is not a black man he is bleached
And who pulled the trigger in the club
It must be a black man’s gun or a toy,
Hence he is chained and wasted in bangles
Wandering from breaking news and wounds
Bleeding to the vice of lights that mingle
With complexions attracting word called evil.
Oh yes…! On the outer I am so black
But my soul goes off the beaten track
Throwing love towards the fires of flaw
Waiting patiently to regain the floor,
Not because I am so scared of war
But because the rainbow has all…
Hence I show the world pleasant flavor
And not a storm of an awful odour.