Why re-live it?
My soul was sold to the white man growing up.
School taught me to push his shadow forward.
I am his walk
His talk
Yet, the world lets him spit on me, step on me, until I have no choice but to take it.
I learn to bite my tongue.
I leave it there. Bleeding. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the revolution. The revolution. The revolution. What revolution?
The one against those who call me the ghetto and give me the voice of all black men. The one that will stop modern day slavery. The one that won't make my children re-live it.
We don’t see the monsters holding us back from the revolution. The revolution. The revolution… When growing up.
The white man created the monsters around us.
Day by day they stick to us like leeches, sucking all the energy, emotion, and strength out.
But we burn them off and say it's ok.
The taste of the iron of my blood trapped in my mouth.                                                                                                                              Even though our tongues are numb.
Numb. Numb enough to override the pain for      
  the revolution.
The revolution.
The revolution...