Not Quite Right

Not quite white Not quite black Not quite bright Not quite brown In this small town Not quite yellow Like this bowl of jell-o Not quite shy Not quite a guy Not quite a gal Where is the general? Nobody is real white Nobody is real black We are all victims of the clock In this tiny block Nobody is real right Nobody is quite right Oh! They want me to be quiet Telling the truth Is like playing the lute I have never seen white people I have never seen black people Everything is like an illusion We must not trust our vision At times Too many crimes Too many lies Open our eyes And our brain, the cries Mean nothing Nothing means nothing. Nobody is quite right Because things are too tight We are always guessing We are always dreaming Nobody is real brown In this town Let’s stop the lies Before the sun dies. Nobody is quite right Under the gleam of the bright light Now, I see why they want me to be quiet.