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.
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