Blind Reality

If the black man looks out at the sea
He sees a place where he can be free
Because America fills his mind with pain
Looking over the place, he sees.

Pain dripping from store to store
Poor people desiring more
The raisin -its already sore
If only he could be more
If only he could be living the dream
In the white mansion lookin pristine
He sees his white friend sitting on Mercedes
But he sees grandpa hitting the 80s

Maybe he’ll break out of the ghetto
Join the college for a balling collection
Where the white man sees
The white men breathes
The white men judge
The white men are free
The black men work, toil, desperately
Hoping for a spot in the NBA NFL, or other sport league
The white men relax, looking over the dome
That they have built centuries ago
In the race of race from sea to sea
They dropped the bomb
We call it slavery

But its much more than that, not just the blacks
Perhaps even the whites have an obstacle to attack
Some are gifted, some are poor, some are just desiring more
The raisin turns sore, the black men screams, the white men can’t see reality
America is a land of the blind, not free
Every time I think I see, its make-believe
Because when I see the gangsters and thieves
I see the separation between the
Black and White
But the world isn’t that nice
Sometimes the rest get dragged in the fight
The white live in castles, we live in groups
They can parade, we have to choose
They look down at the players they see
Running on the field, chasing a dream
They bet on one or two, maybe they’ll win
But more likely, they’ll never begin
Because their mamas home, working the clean
Or maybe dads home, paying taxes to the white man who can see
The reality of the race, it was rigged in the first place
Maybe one day they’ll see, how blind they were to white ecstasy
Maybe one day they’ll climb to the top
Only to realize there’s a chance they can drop
And when that time comes, they have to choose
Between the equality and responsibility of the world
Because its not their burden, its ours
They escaped the gates, but their choice sours
Many do good, many do bad
Losing their lives to the spoken trash
The way that race has been set
Black men have to play first and last
White men always pass