Oh to be white I’d be witty and gay and have cuddles and love at the end of the day there’d be cream in my tea and guards to guard me from the poor and the claws at the gate, oh I hate to be so damn dark blue I don’t know what to do it’s a solemn old hue to be sure, there must be much more, the future looks bright, I can’t wait to be white. I can’t wait to be white, I don’t know what it is, they say I see such red but all I sees blue tears, I’m the fiftieth shade with the filthiest business and though I’m called shady I’m no kind of witness they all seem scared shitless I must be a picture of hell, and colored as well, so hard to define. I don’t know which of all of these colours is right but I’m told it’s not mine. What has sparkle and shine? What empowers the climb? I’ve been told by the Bible and men with big signs that it’s white.