The white

You people had their bodies burned and run,
Those two children,
Those boys full of health,
Are now dead and gone.

You robbed me of the best things in my life,
But you never found it in your heart to protect it,
Look at me mister!
When I hear you talk of my boys’ death, I feel like killing!

I can’t avenge for my sons death,
I cannot wipe dirt with dirt,
But what makes me want to live again?
Uhhh… Tell me!

Your tears are pale and clear,
Just like those my sons shed,
Even if my black color full of fear
Your white still does not count here.

I’ve come to thank you for what you’ve been doing,
I’ve come to realize that you were good Men,
And that you saved my own from misery and pain,
So just you’d feel superior and mighty!

Pain has no color,
Tears are all salty,
Grief is all left to my heart,
So you thieves would feel good!

Keep your mouths talking,
Keep your people in our farms,
Keep our ladies in your homes,
But remember death has no color.