Why is red the colour
of the blood he bled?
Any other colour would have looked
as sad to the six coffin carriers
dressed all in black who never had
intended to take the sermon back
Why is red the colour of the flames
that grow and eat up all the people
who never learned to know
that when their everything is burning
and Mother Earth is dead
They can point their smoking fingers
and blame it on the red
Red red I read it in the fire
Red red fire written on the wall
Heaven would really like to change it
But the red red fire's getting ever so tall
Cause you know damn well
Heaven can't do it all
Why is black the colour
of the skin he has
Don't he know with skin like that
He is only good for jazz
Good for jazz and shoeshine
and any kind of chores
And working half his ass off
for good-for-nothing preachers
of the equal people story
and brotherhood of man
who go to church on Sundays
and will get you when they can
Why is white the colour
of everything that's pure
White is not a colour
And nobody is sure
if the opposite of colour is really
nothing more than the whiteness
of a bigot at a creaking of the door
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