Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night,
My mother lets out a terrible cry.
They killed my brother.
My people are not welcome here.

I get up at 6 in the morning,
and I head to the train station.
Those eyes of animosity glare at me,
The older women hold their purses tightly.
My people are not welcome here.

After school I head to the basketball court,
my friends and I are catching up.
They're watching us play.
It starts to get real dark,
so I walk down Spaulding.

As I round the gas station,
I hear the heavy sirens.
My heart starts to pound,
the sweat trickles down my neck.
I hear the shouting and the whipping of batons
striking my ancestors throughout space and time. 

Bang.

"Crap. Did you turn the camera off?"

"Yeah."

"Good that thug knows

His people are not welcome here."