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Polite Young Man

from You Are A Citizen by tudors

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lyrics

I must be fucked in the head
because I didn’t catch how you had
called me a “polite young man
and not some hoodlum in a hoodie
expected of colored skin.”
Well you can stop staring at my toes.
There are no snakes in my eyes.

You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know othered skin
slammed face first on the hood of a Honda.
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know 12 gunshots
that deafen nights. Just skittles as weapons.

So tell me once again
how it’s no one’s fault when children die,
when hollow points take fathers
and eat mother’s hearts alive.
I want to see your face at the end of the world
circled by crows
where there’s a gun in your hand,
a gun in your hand.
Seared off your fingerprints,
but the gun’s in your fucking hand.

You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know bullet holes
that sear seatbelts of a man surrendered.
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know cigarette ash
that tighten nooses around black necks.
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know othered skin
slammed face first on the hood of a Honda.
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know suffering
You wouldn’t know 12 gunshots
that deafen nights. Just skittles as weapons.

Stop! Please! Don’t! Shoot!
STOP! PLEASE! DON’T! SHOOT!



“Black boy, brown boy,
act like you’re white
(and) hide that target on your back
and maybe we’ll call you a citizen.
Dance boy! Dance boy
to this gaslight bebop.
(To) the weight of nonexistence
that was made just for your tapping shoes.
Please surrender for your own good.

Black boy. Brown boy.
Act like you are white.
Black boy. Brown boy.
Act like you are a citizen.”

Your breath
down my neck
holds me
like a cop’s hand—
the one not busied
with a pistol,
(and) I can’t breathe.
I cannot breathe.

"I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background."

credits

from You Are A Citizen, released December 13, 2019
Lyrics by M. Clayton

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tudors Long Beach, California

P.O.C. fronted Noise Punk from the Los Angeles area. Always lower case the "t."

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