In this place, everything's based on race and people are no longer people but shades of brown
He's not "that guy," he's "that black guy"
Over and over you try to make me choose "you're one of us" or "are you blacker or whiter"
I can't be either, so I check the box labelled "other" and leave the blank line alone
I walk with my head hung low because the southern ghost haunts every face
And hardens the mortar between every brick of every wall that makes people identify with a color