245A Songtext
von Hands of God

The process begins
With the reduction of a soul to a color
Stripping traditions, suppressing identity
Bleaching our minds, the only remedy

Justice is nowhere
The innocents left in anguish
Self-hatred instilled systematic oppression
Correlation of color and suspicion

Scales imbalanced, only money connects
Impoverished grieve, true evil collects
A place where race threatens security
Born charged with the crime of impurity


Guns to my face
Cuffs on my wrist
Knees to my back
Treat me like a savage
And I′ll become the animal you want me to be

A jaundice complexion
Provoking true disgust
Black eyes, no expression
The essence of distrust

Reduce me
Condition me
Incarcerate me
I will never be free