Big black man looking ominous,
Pale white boy getting off the bus,
Time and place for a gun or drug;
These two run together - and hug!
"I missed you, Dad!" "I missed you, Son!"
It's time to check our world vision.
There's no time left for indecision;
It's time to check our world vision.
Sometimes, all of your consternation
Is just a "pigment" of your imagination
Picked up in some idle conversation -
Just a "pigment" of your imagination.
Two dark, evil dudes in their turbans,
Probably causing this disturbance.
Lots of commotion in the crowd,
Fists are flying, voices are loud.
Now, everything is copacetic;
Both these guys are paramedics.
I guess looks can be deceiving;
The real bad guys are all leaving.
Sometimes, all of your consternation
Is just a "pigment" of your imagination
Picked up in some idle conversation -
Just a "pigment" of your imagination.
A fast approaching Hispanic...
Your pulse races as you panic.
Gotta be part of some cartel,
Selling those tiny hits from Hell.
He gets closer than you had planned,
And, with a smile, he extends his hand.
Says, "Come November, please vote for me."
You shake his hand and smile sheepishly.
Sometimes, all of our consternation
Is just a "pigment" of our imagination
Picked up in some idle conversation -
Just a "pigment" of our imagination.
Pale white boy getting off the bus,
Time and place for a gun or drug;
These two run together - and hug!
"I missed you, Dad!" "I missed you, Son!"
It's time to check our world vision.
There's no time left for indecision;
It's time to check our world vision.
Sometimes, all of your consternation
Is just a "pigment" of your imagination
Picked up in some idle conversation -
Just a "pigment" of your imagination.
Two dark, evil dudes in their turbans,
Probably causing this disturbance.
Lots of commotion in the crowd,
Fists are flying, voices are loud.
Now, everything is copacetic;
Both these guys are paramedics.
I guess looks can be deceiving;
The real bad guys are all leaving.
Sometimes, all of your consternation
Is just a "pigment" of your imagination
Picked up in some idle conversation -
Just a "pigment" of your imagination.
A fast approaching Hispanic...
Your pulse races as you panic.
Gotta be part of some cartel,
Selling those tiny hits from Hell.
He gets closer than you had planned,
And, with a smile, he extends his hand.
Says, "Come November, please vote for me."
You shake his hand and smile sheepishly.
Sometimes, all of our consternation
Is just a "pigment" of our imagination
Picked up in some idle conversation -
Just a "pigment" of our imagination.
envoyé par giorgio - 17/7/2010 - 10:37
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Lyrics & Music by Lex Zaleta
"Maybe this whole racial thing is just a "pigment" of our imagination.."