What's understood doesn't need to be explained. Stand outside and look in before you assume my character. Already convicted and sentenced. Serving time mentally trapped. Looked down at over a shade you can't identify with. Optimistic thoughts pushing on my ancestors spirituals. Gotta steal my success I paid for. Blood sweat and tears for a righteous way with illegal gain. That's the life I know. I can't afford your rich thoughts so I'll lay away and store my coins. Still feeling like I need to run and warn my children. Hide my husband. Sacrifice myself. Whose bus back seat will I sit on? Who will hear my dream? Will my actions have to be violence? By any means necessary? Has my black life matter? Will it matterd? Why can't my restitutions be my true freedom? Dragging chains and marks of society. How can I follow a road that's always blocked? Whose the real threat? My physical or my mental?