I'm scared at the store
Scared to go walking
Scared of the people whose eyes are all on me
Scared to go out
Scared to stay in
Because either way my life might just end
They say I have rights
They say I have a voice
But the color of my skin seems to take away my choice.
I'm scared of the number, 911 , they say call it whenever
But I find myself hesitant to call these protectors.
I'm scared of whose life they will choose
I'm scared of the heavy metal they will use
To pierce my skin and stop my heart
So I channel my fear into this art
I'm scared for my mother, my sister, my brother my father my grandparents and every family member around.
I'm afraid for no reason, they'll end up in the ground.
So tell me America land of the "free" home of the brave.
If I belong here, why am I so afraid?
