Well, there is this situation

1 body,
2 bodies,
3 bodies,
4.

1 body,
2 bodies,
3,
On the floor.

We paint our streets with blood,
Our mouths with discriminations,
Our heart with retaillations.
But we all scream:
Let's make America great again.

So pick up your things,
And pick up your guns,
Shoot those who dare to look at you
Fun-
Ny.

Not a single mound of difference.
Not even black and white,
Not even grey,
Not even those beautiful shades
Of 50ties photographs.

How dare people be different!
How dare things change!
How dare you not shoot those,
Who cut you off
While changing lanes!!

But we call ourselves respectable,
Ahead of times,
While even not so slight,
Not so neglectible,
We're backing up into the past.

We are no different of those,
Those we say that preach hate.
When we preach ourselves
And teach ourselves
The lives of hate,
Hate hate hate,
Hate hate.

Hate.
Coldhearted indignant hate.
Hardspoken indifferent hate.
Passionate and undeniable hate.
A well overworn it's too late.

"Let's make America great again!!"
Well when was that,
Exactly?
Do you know when you had ever found no reason
To complain.
To my shame,
I know none.

"Let's make our heart be wun by our heads,
again."
I want to say.
Let's do the maths,
Again.
See the statistics and the numbers
And the names
And the bodies
On the floor,
You stepped on,
To make yourself a platform.

Sure you recognise these immigrants, holding you up?
Or are you too busy building walls,
Mister Trump?