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Dirty Hands

My white hands are dirty
Even if I don’t realize
My burdens light like my skin
I haven’t had the same trials

The house I live in
my manicured life
The things I don’t have to think about
While oppressed brothers deal with strife

Stolen lives, blood sweat and tears
Things haven’t changed enough
 over far to many years

“Jump down turn around, pick a bail of cotton”
Innocent men hung from trees
We should beg for forgiveness 
But it’s black men on their knees

Prison population permeated with colour 
We haven’t looked out for one another
We have to rethink “Who is my brother?”
No child should be without their father
Each home should have a dad and mother

To many lives that are broken
A few black women
get a job as a token
but heaven forbid 
If they’re ever outspoken 
“Things are more equal”
You must be jokin
Is that some kind of White Privilege Puff you’re smokin?
 
Even though I’m aware
I’m not sure what to do
Still I know I can’t pretend things are equal for you
But am I truly able to face what is true
Old ways of thinking are starting to renew
I’m afraid of where we are heading to.
White power resurgence
Watch out for that person 
standing next to you

Now they want to stop your vote
They say “We’re all  in the same boat.”
So why do you feel fantom fingers around your throat 
Your tunes are being sung backwards
While to many are left with a sour note.
More white washing
Coat upon coat.
To many are losing their hope.

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