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lyrics

Sitting in line at the Border patrol
In between west texas and new mexico
The lights and cameras made me feel like a criminal
Even though I had done nothing wrong

The agent’s talking to me with his hand on his gun
telling me how this job would be a lot more fun
If every once in awhile they’d just let him shoot someone
He threw his head back in a gold toothed laugh

Then they waved us straight through because our skin was white
And we drove off into the new mexican night
80 miles an hour with no hope in sight
only static on the radio

Then into Mari-k-k-kopa county
And their tent cities
Where sheriff Joe arrested all of the minorities
Letting them bake in the sun at 120 degrees
Someone should leave his cracker ass out in that desert heat

When we finally hit the border of Californ-i-a
We were dodging wildfires out on the highway
Destiny had manifested itself into flames
The globe is getting hot
No one wants the blame

Pulled into San Francisco
parked in chinatown
Well dressed folx of every color
just out walking around
I bought myself a t-shirt
Went to have a look around
Heard a trumpet in the air
and i followed that sound

Stepped into a coffee shop and got in line
Sitting on the counter was a help wanted sign
I thought to myself, this must be divine
Intervention
at its atheistic best


I ordered my drink
pulled out my wallet to pay
The guy behind the counter
didn’t know what to say
The lady behind me whispered
“we just don’t do it that way”
All of a sudden everyone in the place
started to sing


If you ain’t got the do re mi, boy
If you ain’t got the do re mi
You better go back to where you came from
If you can’t afford our luxury
We don’t care if you’re white, brown, or black
We’re no longer accepting your filthy cash
Digital currency talks,
poverty
walks It’s broke ass home

credits

from The Teenage Years Of The 21st Century, released December 3, 2019

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Micah Schnabel Columbus, Ohio

Micah Schnabel is a singer/songwriter and author from Columbus, Ohio.

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