my head’s high but i’m wearing a blindfold. forced to march to the rhythm of their cold fists that play a beat on my cheeks and my lips. joined by the clatter of the chains on my wrist. i have the right to remain blind. and if i open my eyes and my mind i’ll get cast aside by the majority rule. but God distinguishes the wise from the fools. my head’s high but it’s starting to throb. i hate the sound of this blood-thirsty mob. vain words are filling their sentences. they paid off the witnesses. they cuss and they spit just for emphasis. i have the right to remain silent. and anything i say or i do they’ll malign and they’ll use to accuse me in their court of law. but this is no court at all. it isn’t just. no it isn’t just. but why should i contend? they’re not my judge. no they’re not my judge. so i am not condemned.
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