What We Gotta Prove

These days we gotta prove we can still breathe as bigotry and police brutality weigh heavy on society’s chest,

that we can turn our tombstone blues into bright and boisterous rallying cries,

that we can still think on our feet even with half our instincts handcuffed behind our backs.

These days we gotta prove we can still put on our best dancing shoes,

rise footloose above the racist-tinged, unhinge bossanova of second-rate third reich dystopia.

These days what we gotta prove is in the proof:

so many good cooks in equality’s kitchen working that hot skillet, doing their best to fry up a sunnier side of life.

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