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Your silence will not protect you; the misreading begins as we try to excuse our intrusion.

Trying to make this bridge called her back another public work on the road of white advancement.

The say you cannot dismantle the master’s house with the master’s tools, but whitey is pilfering every workshop.

Self-applying the labels of liberal, radical, progressive while sorrow, tears and blood remain our regular trademark.

White faces with whiter masks go quoting black names in rooms without black faces in a wretched excuse for diversity.

We try some romance , turn your lights down low making damn sure the spotlight stays on us.

Talkin’ about a revolution at stationary tables, in backrooms of the establishment, nowhere near the welfare lines.

From margin to center the same old centre continues to enforce the marginalization.

This aint no new thang, this is our M.O.

And fuck I look like just another one if I haven`t already become so.

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