Down the streets of America there is great fear,
All of them have their finger triggers in their pocket,
While the rest of them are crying black tears,
Hiding under their shaken blankets.

Waiting as they dream of the nights
While all the privileged get to hang loose,
Forevermore the blacks can’t have a flight,
While the Americans have a nice chocolate moose.

All of the discriminated forced into labour,
Something they wouldn’t be able to escape,
Not even being able to talk to their neighbour
All trying to see the white as a man in a cape.

Things would need to change,
Something different needs to start.
It isn’t the colour if your skin,
It’s what you need to change in your heart.