Swing Low

Swing low, sweet chariot Comin' for to carry me home Swing low, sweet chariot Comin' for to carry me home You cannot see it, but I am biracial Not mixed, not a mutt, just biracial There is my interior, accepted standard And my Exterior cage This outer vessel, this transportation suit This form I use to get from place to place This deadly, mobile gas chamber This skin suit, whatever you want to call it Liberating me and keeping me contained This car without wheels, Chariot with no horse, Airplane with no wings Carries such precious cargo Holds a gem inside too delicate to be shown An easily intimidated, trigger-happy piece of cargo That this suit carries around day after day God sent me from my home, to walk a dark path with these two races One makes me loved, the other gives me hatred But I still walk the path, then I see this tree Tree with such splendor and luscious red fruit And an odd little swing Its seat too small for my posterior but wide enough for my cranium, It's like it was made just for me Those who bare my inner race, on the outside Gather 'round, like it's a minstrel show Their smiles encourage me to try out their freshly crafted swing And I almost leave and abandon this thing Until I hear the mass of sirens sing, Swing low, sweet chariot Comin' for to carry me home Swing low, sweet chariot Comin' for to carry you home