Finding Color In Grey People Letra

conditioned egos

days of pestilence and greed

incubating our disease

mother, father doing fine

dinner is at the table

mute the TV, uncork the wine

separation from the mind

softly sing this lullaby

newborns in their cradles clawing as they cry and shout

because the bottom is falling out

workers strike, locked in factories

so that you and I could feel free

they fell with pride, reclaimed this city's streets

'86 cut in half the work week

It's our culture friend, they want you to forget it

it's our common strand, history taken for granted

takes resilience now to bounce back up when you hit the ground