There's Gonna be a Killing

There’s gonna be a killing but I ain’t the one.
Mister it’s your blond haired, blue-eyed son.
They moved to Colorado to run away from us.
They figured in Columbine they’d be safe from us.
The mother cries as her son fades away.
We need to come together; racists and radicals brothers and pray.

There’s gonna be a killing;
Why the hell are you afraid of me?
You moved to the back of the elevator like my skin is covered with leprosy.
There’s gonna be a killing; and you should be afraid.
Of the man who built this machine with defective parts and unskilled trade.
To boost his profits he’ll gamble with your life.
But you’re more afraid that I might be carrying a knife.

There’s gonna be a killing.
But I’m standing my ground.
They got the law on their side with racial profiling.
But if they let me make it home it’s my digits their daughters be dialing.
It kills them to see my head held.
How do I absorb their blows without a whimper or a cry?
The closes thing they’ll see to a tear is the sweat on my brow.
It’s the link from the past of my forefathers; the ones they used as a plough.

There’s gonna be a killing;
But the brothers ain’t making no bomb.
Just ask Timothy McVeigh or George Bush why we started Desert Storm.
There’s gonna be a killing;
Yeah you right, brothers be killing themselves.
But we ain’t got no airplanes; and I sure as hell don’t know no Columbians names.
So where we be getting that white, powdery, cane?
There’s gonna be a killing.
This sh*t is insane.

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