---

I'm retching on the dirt, it's earthiness coating my throat

Coating my throat

I'm wincing on the bitterest pill

I refuse to swallow

Swallow

I'm offered the warmth of a velvet glove, an iron fist to some

Iron fist

I'm hounded by white right might that wants the country pure

I'm incensed by those in awe of 'living amongst their own'

Selective perfection will cut their own throats!

I'm constantly forcing the point

But we're all retching on dirt

And we'll choke if we don't spit it out!