01-31-2013, 01:59 AM
Mama was white,
and she was pissed,
and she was good at making money:
so no one said anything.
But the night the blacks came,
she got out of line.
—It was a white Christmas,
and we didn’t get much that year;
though mama made sure that what we got
was worth every penny she spent.
That was the night the blacks came,
it was twenty past twelve,
Christmas eve… Christmas day was on its way:
but this was the night the blacks came.
They were quiet, and polite,
nothing like mama had told us about blacks.
We hadn’t been in town for months;
there was a new night club,
and the blacks hung out around there,
and walked up and down those streets
day and night.
We had missed our town,
and longed for our town, in all our dreams,
with our eyes wide open, we watched
time take its toll on what life had become.
Mama said it wasn’t our town any more.
The blacks came,
I heard them, their soft, warm voices;
their delicate, open footsteps on our so silent sidewalk,
up onto our deserted porch.
—I heard the animal sounds,
the four-leg running through the woods
behind the house…
And they’d come to offer us a deer.
In case we were mad that they were chasing
deer through our lawn.
As fair in their guilt,
as their innocent palms could offer
in front of us,
the children that harbored reindeer, and dreams
of suga plums in our heads…
But mama sent them away,
with their hands, their smiles,
their fear and their innocence.
Mama was white, Christmas was white,
but night was black, the town was black…
And we, adopted children, were too.
And mama couldn’t shine us,
no matter how much we owned.
.....................................
Mama was white,
And she was pissed,
And she was good at making money:
So no one said anything.
But the night the blacks came,
She got out of line.
—It was a white Christmas,
And we didn’t get much that year;
Though mama made sure that what we got
Was worth every penny she spent.
That was the night the blacks came,
It was twenty past twelve,
Christmas eve,—Christmas day was on its way:
But this was the night the blacks came.
They were quiet, and polite,
Nothing like mama had told us about blacks.
We hadn’t been in town for months;
There was a new night club,
And the blacks hung out around there,
And walked up and down those streets
Day and night.
We had missed our town,
And longed for our town, in all our dreams,
With our eyes wide open, we watched
Time take its toll on what life had become.
Mama said it wasn’t our town any more.
The blacks came,
I heard them, their soft, warm voices;
Their delicate, open footsteps on our so silent sidewalk,
Up onto our deserted porch.
—I heard the animal sounds,
The four-leg running through the woods
Behind the house…
And they’d come to offer us a deer.
In case we were mad that they were chasing
Deer through our lawn.
As fair in their guilt,
As their innocent palms could offer
In front of us,
The children that harbored reindeer, and dreams
Of suga plums in our heads…
But mama sent them away,
With their hands, their smiles,
Their fear and their innocence.
Mama was white, Christmas was white,
But night was black, the town was black…
And we, adopted children, were too.
And mama couldn’t shine us,
No matter how much we owned.
and she was pissed,
and she was good at making money:
so no one said anything.
But the night the blacks came,
she got out of line.
—It was a white Christmas,
and we didn’t get much that year;
though mama made sure that what we got
was worth every penny she spent.
That was the night the blacks came,
it was twenty past twelve,
Christmas eve… Christmas day was on its way:
but this was the night the blacks came.
They were quiet, and polite,
nothing like mama had told us about blacks.
We hadn’t been in town for months;
there was a new night club,
and the blacks hung out around there,
and walked up and down those streets
day and night.
We had missed our town,
and longed for our town, in all our dreams,
with our eyes wide open, we watched
time take its toll on what life had become.
Mama said it wasn’t our town any more.
The blacks came,
I heard them, their soft, warm voices;
their delicate, open footsteps on our so silent sidewalk,
up onto our deserted porch.
—I heard the animal sounds,
the four-leg running through the woods
behind the house…
And they’d come to offer us a deer.
In case we were mad that they were chasing
deer through our lawn.
As fair in their guilt,
as their innocent palms could offer
in front of us,
the children that harbored reindeer, and dreams
of suga plums in our heads…
But mama sent them away,
with their hands, their smiles,
their fear and their innocence.
Mama was white, Christmas was white,
but night was black, the town was black…
And we, adopted children, were too.
And mama couldn’t shine us,
no matter how much we owned.
.....................................
Mama was white,
And she was pissed,
And she was good at making money:
So no one said anything.
But the night the blacks came,
She got out of line.
—It was a white Christmas,
And we didn’t get much that year;
Though mama made sure that what we got
Was worth every penny she spent.
That was the night the blacks came,
It was twenty past twelve,
Christmas eve,—Christmas day was on its way:
But this was the night the blacks came.
They were quiet, and polite,
Nothing like mama had told us about blacks.
We hadn’t been in town for months;
There was a new night club,
And the blacks hung out around there,
And walked up and down those streets
Day and night.
We had missed our town,
And longed for our town, in all our dreams,
With our eyes wide open, we watched
Time take its toll on what life had become.
Mama said it wasn’t our town any more.
The blacks came,
I heard them, their soft, warm voices;
Their delicate, open footsteps on our so silent sidewalk,
Up onto our deserted porch.
—I heard the animal sounds,
The four-leg running through the woods
Behind the house…
And they’d come to offer us a deer.
In case we were mad that they were chasing
Deer through our lawn.
As fair in their guilt,
As their innocent palms could offer
In front of us,
The children that harbored reindeer, and dreams
Of suga plums in our heads…
But mama sent them away,
With their hands, their smiles,
Their fear and their innocence.
Mama was white, Christmas was white,
But night was black, the town was black…
And we, adopted children, were too.
And mama couldn’t shine us,
No matter how much we owned.