There's Two Sides of a Swinging Door

As I sit on my grandma’s guest bed gazing out the window,
the sun blazed through the cracks in between the blinds.
I’ve been here before, in this place, in this bed, in this state of mind;
Feeling trapped between me and the grand ol’ outdoors.
The old folks always telling me, “Everything aint always what it seems,”
honestly now I don’t know what to believe.
On one hand my human eyes are telling me,
everything you see is everything you’ll ever be,
then on the other my thoughts, imaginations racing through my brain,
constantly reminding me if people like: Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., and Thurgood Marshall can do it,
what makes me any different?
Sure I’m growing up in a different time zone; killings everyday, abductions left and right, reality television, and food is now the enemy?
Imagine if they were all still alive today,
what would they say?
Where is the pride?
We’d rather sit in the back of the bus and cause a fuse.
Where is the integration?
We’d rather rather sit at home on our sofas and put down our own president and basically the whole republican party.
Where is the respect for the law?
We’d rather kill our own just to show a group of people how badly we want to belong.
You know I don’t know, because everything aint what it seems,
suddenly remembering what some old folks once told me.
You can walk through a door to get to the other side and try to forget your past.
I don’t know a lot of things being fairly young in age, but I can assure you that I’m not dumb.
Just as sure as 1+1=2,
I can guarantee that there are two sides of every swinging door.