I felt like a stranger in my own skin.
Like my soul belonged to the cosmos, all the chaos, but this skin,
oh this skin, has soberity forced all over it.
Like my soul was as real as the throbbing of blood under the veins, but this skin,
oh this skin, was powdered with fake over and over.
Like my soul was free and of different layers of blue under another like the ocean, but this skin,
oh this skin, was forced to act white again and again.
Like this skin was and will be a trophy to many
But this soul,
oh this soul, would keep deluding their win.