Clear Blue Skies

Damn it, son
I think its time we had a little man-to-man talking
I heard that you was hand-in-hand
Walking down the boulevard, middle of the day
With this Black chick
Tell me the truth, boy, or you can catch this slap quick
Let me get this straight
You’re ranting and raving
Behaving like a mad dog with rabies
Because my baby’s not white; that ain’t right
Pops, you got me puzzled
Because in the past with Black folks you never struggled
At least to my knowledge
Your knowledge seems to need a little working
That little nigger bitch got you looking like The Jerk
And I can’t another minute of you and that Black heifer, son
Looking sorta like Tom Willis from the Jefferson Show
What you know about my girl to try and slander
Let me talk a bit and maybe you can understand
The situation that I got isn’t ?messing with somebody?
Cause this woman’s taking care of both my mind and my body
Yeah, yeah, yeah, OK I understand that she’s attractive
Cause their bodies are just built to be sexually active
Baby-making taking tax money for their welfare
Or maybe up on 42nd with the bodies that they sell there
So what’s her name?
Is it Shanainai or Shaquana?
Son, she’s got to be a goner
Well I’m glad to see my father’s in my corner
Oh, you think this shit is funny?
I ain’t joking
That’s the last straw, the camel’s back has been broken
Verse Two:
Well I’ll be damned
Cause it seems that I’m the last to know
My father’s a bigot
My girl’s Black, he can’t dig it So she has to go Now you’re judging me, kid
But do you know me But it seems to me that even David Duke could be your homey
Now you know I ain’t no racist
But they place us in a terrible predicament
They’re taking over the block
And, damn it son, I’m sick of it But when you see the neighbors you say Hi, how you doing
Still I think of how the value of my property’s been ruined
You sound like such an idiot
I pity it I wonder, should I laugh or should I cry?
More than anything I want a reason why
All of a sudden, the blood in your vien flows with such vigor
Just because you choose to call another person nigger
Well they’re just some thugs
Stealing, slum-dwelling, drug-dealing, gun-selling
And a hundred yard dashing after doing purse-snatching
Damn savages who ravages the buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken
With the first dibs on the ribs
Looking like a damn monkey on the football fields and basketball courts
Taking over sports
Leaving us just to golf and to tennis
And they menacing society, the bums
They should go the fuck to where they came from
So that’s your vision of perfection
That’s your clear blue skies
Through those clear blue eyes
Which seem to make you think you’re better
But instead of simply sinking to the level of your thinking
I’ll be ghost
Pack your bags, nigger-lover, and good riddance