The Lost African

I’m black and I’m proud
I’m black and I’m proud
I’m black and I’m proud
I’m black and I’m proud
I’m black and I’m proud

But repeating the same line five times
Sounds like I’m trying to convince my mind
About my blackness as if off it, I would be mindless
Just the same way people who repeat themselves
Offer a little insight and waste a lot of time

So tell me, am I as black as “black” is defined?

“The absence or complete absorption of light”
“The total opposite of white”
Does my skin have the same color as the lines
That the ink of my pen bleeds on these sites?
Am I color-blind or am I blinded by own sight?
Coz if I’m black then I naturally have a black eye
Black is evil, God is light and his son is white
And I’m supposed to be proud of that? Yeah right!
Can’t believe these definitions got me to question my own complexion
So today I looked in the mirror with all my attention
And I realized I was brown, just like honey, at least my reflexion
So every now and then I find myself lost in outro-spection
With lots of speculations in the middle of the confusion
I begin to wonder “Should I see a dermatologist or an optician?”
Coz it’s either my iris or my skin that got a problem with pigmentation
Or both. Anyways, color-blind or just blind, I remain African

So I’ll say it loud

I’m African and I’m proud
I’m African and I’m proud
I’m African and I’m proud
I’m African and I’m proud
I’m African and I’m proud

But repeating the same line five times
Sounds like I’m trying to convince my mind
About my Africanness as if off it, I would be mindless

Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t even know what “Africa” means

Do I need books or the Internet to know who I am, really?
I didn’t know it was Latin before I browsed search engines
I felt so ashamed to know the etymology of my origins

But why should I trust the ink of the man who stole my history
To sell it back to me at an expensive cost in an education package,
Confusing my mind with lots of civilization stories I don’t need
So I won’t ask questions such as why was my kind held in cages?
Today they throw cool iPhone cases at me so I get my eyes off the Ota Benga case:
A pygmy held in a New York zoo among apes to satisfy their Darwinism
I am outraged not just by the degree of this ignorance exhibitionism
But by my own African kings who gave away their own people as bonus
In exchange for mirrors, salt, guns and everything else bogus

Now tell me why should I be proud of being African?
Because I got rhythm in my genes? What about South Americans?
Maybe I should be proud coz the first human was found on my continent.
It was woman, right? And her name was Lucy HA-HA! And she had no man
I guess that’s why they say Africa is still a virgin but we call it Mama land?
You’re a part of me so I can only be proud of you beautiful green land

Mama Africa, I’m proud of you
Mama Africa, I’m proud of you
Mama Africa, I’m proud of you
Mama Africa, I’m proud of you
Mama Africa, I’m proud of you

But repeating the same line five times
Sounds like I’m trying to convince my mind
About my roots as if off them I wouldn’t be alive

I don’t half a clue about half of them but I’ve survived

Mama, no disrespect but this is not a life
Your wells are running low, times are dry
You’re lucky you’re still breathing but you’re in denial
You can’t win this fight no matter how many times
You convince yourself of the same lie
You’re not even standing on own your feet
Those are smart prosthetics, say “hello technology”
They got you, you can’t flee, you can’t be free

Sorry mama, I’m not insensitive but I’ve become immune
I respect you for your natural instinct of motherhood
For the fresh food, the fruits and care, I’ll say thank you
But don’t expect anything else from me coz I got nothing
Not even nothing to lose so I’ll lose myself an odd journey
Towards a jungle that is made of concrete
And where the paper made from your trees is the new green
See my brothers got greedy, chopped our family tree
Sold the pieces overseas so I sold my soul to the American dream
Coz I’m tired of having nightmares with my eyes open wide everyday
I can’t stay, my dreams are to get away, far away from your face
No no no mama, don’t get the wrong idea, I don’t hate you
I just hate to stand by and watch your sons rape you
Sorry I don’t have the power to save you
I won’t stick around and watch you die coz if you do, I’ll die too
So instead of dying together, maybe one of us should live to tell the story
Fuck their colors, names, definitions and racist theories
I just wanna disappear but before I get lost, mama, teach me
Teach me how to love so I can teach tomorrow a better way to live

#1key

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