Blaze of white against sky of blue
Imitating stationary clouds
Golden light piercing rounded wood
Leaching away its nature
A nature bred upon the plains of a misunderstood continent
The grasses of which are fed upon by the wild underlings of a starched oligarchy
Drums beat against the fetid air
Bringing a rush of wind
That lifts a flock of birds
Upon a wave of dissension
The screams of laboring women and squalling babies
Reminds us that this is a land of people
Not merely feral beings
Your money is of little use here
It is thrown into a smoldering fire
To join the ghosts of unappreciated generations
No more can be done here
For it is a continent of a splintered people
Part II
You walk the back streets of a crippled nation
The flag of your fellow countrymen draped across your shoulders
You kneel upon the ground
Dipping an edge into a puddle of water
And use it to wipe the dust from your face
You\'ve been this way before
You\'re sure of it
You can feel the remembered loneliness
As unfamiliar shoulders press against you
You\'re all going to the same place
Even though no one knows where that is
You walk on
Part III
You ask who I am
Do you really want to know?
Do your really care?
Will you be able to handle the answer?
I don\'t think you will
When I scream you can\'t hear me
When I talk black you don\'t understand me
When I speak white you think you know me
Maybe if I speak softly you will understand
What you don\'t get is
I don\'t need you to understand
I don\'t even want you to
Who I am is who I am
And that\'s all you need to know