They can kill our bodies but not our souls,
This splattered blood isn’t our dreams being
Drained from every essence of what makes us us.
They can sew our lips tight but our voices will always get louder.
They can sew our lips tight but our voices will always get louder.
The scars, blisters and burns on our necks
Are our pride, a victory to show how we overcame.
Through all this, you see us as all things bad,
Black or White skin; we are all the epitome of the gods.
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