LBB

18: 1  If by night, you guys off the Rez,

Carrying cases of beer, Hardons for my mom,

For me and Charles, fear,

18: 2  At the top of the stairs, we sit, Unable to see,

but intently listening to their bullshit,

18: 3  Pellet gun loaded,

Pumped 8 times it’s like a .22

If they hurt my mom,

through eyes I would shoot,

18: 4  Eventually, we’d get tired and go to our bed,

It Would slowly go away,

the burning in my stomach, and the anger in my head

18: 5  If by day, it would be much the same way,

I would be locked outside, 

18: 6  The little blonde bitch, would put on a show,

As I yelled and pounded on the door or window,

18: 7  We’ve endured some of the same,

poverty, cold, and government food,

18: 8  But our similarities disappear in a flash,

you have your perfect culture,

And I’m poor white trash.

JEV