This is really supposed to be read out loud.
(442.) I am hated
=----------------------------------------------------=
Red, yellow, brown, black, and white
They all hate me to the point that I lose sleep at night.
Why am I hated above all the others?
Why am I cursed by esse's and brothers?
Because my life is easier, my house is bigger?
Because not once in my life have I called a man a ******?
All truth be told, I'm a ****** in the litteral sense
I'm a lazy good for nothing worth not even a six-pence
But I should not feel guilty for oppressions
I have no secrets to spill out in bloody confessions.
My ancestors were bastards of men
The injustices they made people suffer, I don't know where to begin
The black man slaved over land not of his own
Grew crops he did not want grown
All for the white man and his greater cause
But stop for a moment and pause
If we are the white devil then what are you?
Who's suffered most, I forget; Blacks, whites, maybe a Jew?
I have suffered nothing compared to the pain that of those before me
Slaves who lived there whole lives full of dreams but died unfree
Jewish people who watched as their closest friends were shot at point blank in front of their face
All because of the Aryan race.
Maybe it's the hispanics who come accross the border in hopes of feeding their family for one more winter
Only to be called an economic splinter
Has he no more rights than the man that stands before you all today?
Is it not just as important what he has to say?
We all whine about injustices done
Civilians must be lost for any wars to be won
The orphans of war that carry out their mothers dying wish
That shattered all so quickly when they're sisters are raped and killed in front of them with a sickening squish
He thinks he let down his mother
Yet I complain that I am being blamed by a brother
For things that my ancestors did that did not bloody my hand
So why should I always carry this brand?
I know that no matter how bad that my life may become
I still live in a house and not in a slum
I have food in my stomach, and family by my side
From no totalinarinists do I hide
I am an American, born and raised
Scolded for acts that never were praised
I want no pity, I already have guilt
For I live on land that your ancestors built; correction OUR ancestors built
So I ask not for forgiveness I ask that you think
Who suffered the most; you, or the people whose lives were taken away in a blink?
(442.) I am hated
=----------------------------------------------------=
Red, yellow, brown, black, and white
They all hate me to the point that I lose sleep at night.
Why am I hated above all the others?
Why am I cursed by esse's and brothers?
Because my life is easier, my house is bigger?
Because not once in my life have I called a man a ******?
All truth be told, I'm a ****** in the litteral sense
I'm a lazy good for nothing worth not even a six-pence
But I should not feel guilty for oppressions
I have no secrets to spill out in bloody confessions.
My ancestors were bastards of men
The injustices they made people suffer, I don't know where to begin
The black man slaved over land not of his own
Grew crops he did not want grown
All for the white man and his greater cause
But stop for a moment and pause
If we are the white devil then what are you?
Who's suffered most, I forget; Blacks, whites, maybe a Jew?
I have suffered nothing compared to the pain that of those before me
Slaves who lived there whole lives full of dreams but died unfree
Jewish people who watched as their closest friends were shot at point blank in front of their face
All because of the Aryan race.
Maybe it's the hispanics who come accross the border in hopes of feeding their family for one more winter
Only to be called an economic splinter
Has he no more rights than the man that stands before you all today?
Is it not just as important what he has to say?
We all whine about injustices done
Civilians must be lost for any wars to be won
The orphans of war that carry out their mothers dying wish
That shattered all so quickly when they're sisters are raped and killed in front of them with a sickening squish
He thinks he let down his mother
Yet I complain that I am being blamed by a brother
For things that my ancestors did that did not bloody my hand
So why should I always carry this brand?
I know that no matter how bad that my life may become
I still live in a house and not in a slum
I have food in my stomach, and family by my side
From no totalinarinists do I hide
I am an American, born and raised
Scolded for acts that never were praised
I want no pity, I already have guilt
For I live on land that your ancestors built; correction OUR ancestors built
So I ask not for forgiveness I ask that you think
Who suffered the most; you, or the people whose lives were taken away in a blink?






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