Warrior

My mother is a warrior Her favorite weapons are pans and pots My mother is a worrier She worries a lot She worries if I will ever be free From this tyranny disguised as democracy She worries about our nation’s decree She worries if her son and daughter will ever get a degree From UNIMA The UNIMA in me Keeps me blinded to see That if I fight the system; the only one hurting is me Like punching a wall when it’s 5 degrees Celsius So Dear God, Help us See That this dictatorship is from overseas Imported like overgrown peas Black eyed and cheese They imprisoned our minds and will, I am Donated a couple dollars to pass a bill, From Sam So homosexuals could walk on our streets With they’re overly tight skinnies and fake Dr Dre Beats.