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I grew up in a ghetto
That was only one house wide
With smiling suburbs all around
And poverty inside
The oldest of an army
That the church was proud to claim
And on the brink of womanhood
I almost lost my name
And I was
Chorus: Quivering in my fever-life
Wishing that I was dead
Suddenly realizing they were
Talking over my head
Learning to speak their double-talk
Facing each day with dread
Waiting waiting waiting waiting
Waiting for that first smear of red
For God was my delirium and sisterhood my goal
But my church began to wonder
If the commies had a soul
And the day I saw a bishop
With an M-1 in his hand
Was the last day of my life
Beneath hypocrisy
HATA BİLDİR
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