Pinch me, maybe it's all a dream
I'll wake out of sleep screaming
Maybe this wasn't really happening
Trial without a jury making scapegoats out of you and me
So why do we hurt our sisters and our brothers?
And punish one another
Simply for the differences in our appearances
We can't just walk in and take what's not ours
Those who write the rules gave themselves all the power
We took, borrowed and stole without giving anything in return
How do they expect our children to learn?
They keep their kids learning in better schools
Yet the native children are left without the tools
Education is a right, not a privilege
But no one seems to be getting the message
I doubt if anyone is even interested.
Put yourself in their shoes:
What type of education
Can you gain living in segregation?
And when your stomach's moaning from starvation
In a house that's not a home but called a reservation
They all say our children are our future generation
They're ignorant to acknowledge their social frustration
No wonder so many of them are tired of being alive,
Contemplating suicide,
When opportunity doesn't over look them, just passes them by
Another ornament on the white man's shrine.
But...maybe this is all still just a dream
Tossing and turning in my sleep
And when I wake everything'll be the way it's supposed to be
but something tells me we haven't seen the last of this history...
