Being brown is the fucking bomb
Except you can’t say fucking
And don’t say bomb.
But do compliment my mothers roti
That shit is super important B
My cousin isn’t my cousin
She’s my sister and he’s my brother
All our kids play happily together.
While the adults pour scotch for one another.
Where the eldest care for the youngest
And it goes on down and up through the line
Woven family in a complex design
Moving up one generation at a time
Where people have heart and nothing but,
And everyone’s stubborn as fuck
Our people are dedicated to loving and enjoying each sight
We’ve got a long way to go on protecting women rights.
But no lessons should you try and tell.
We were praying to mothers before Europe could spell.
We were in cities while in caves others dwelled
Wrote the book about love and sex and you know that it selled
That shit’s beautiful and so cray
Have you seen the work of our potters of clay?
And the sages who the infinite did rhyme,
The people who contemplated the nature of time
And death and love and duty too
Maybe that caste thing wasn’t actually cool
So we should scrap that and say we’re all equal.
Excited for the future because it’s our sequel
Where you are what you are,
We love you thin or fat, poor or cash stacked
Light skinned or dark, so long as you drink chai and think South Asia is fly
We allow others the right to be
To worship, to love, to eat and to see
All the world is, that’s our salvation.
Because it’s déjà vu or as we call it reincarnation.