Can we fight
To save ourselves?
Or is that a sin too?
Miss, when I beg of you
To give me bread, and sleep
Will you assist, as people always have?
Miss, who might you be?
Will you be Mestizo or Mulatto?
Either way, you’re beautiful to me
Like so many, Raquel, Maria, or Nikki
April cried when the license was signed
Just as I cried when the contact broken
Poor little mulatto godless, whom I’d left behind
She wasn’t right for me, I’d told myself so many times
Our combined ambition would be too much any one life
I guess it was the mestizo princess who was all wrong
And I’m the one calling it an early night
Despite the fact it’s already two o’clock in the morning
I guess I was mistaken, again.
I’ve always been mistaken lately.
I feel like slave labour!
Deal with it. Work through it.
I feel I must be an advocate for every little action
No more! I won’t explain myself anymore!
I can’t stand it any more!
I’ll fight, or die.
So make sure,
if you’re really looking out for me
To make this a fight I can win.
And place me carefully
Back in the fight,
for freedom.
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