Girls and boys grow up to be ladies and gentlemen
Grow up to be respectable citizens
Grow up to be scared in their skins
We dressed up in our parents’ clothes. We soaked up every word they told us
Someday we’d have the nice picket fence with a clothes line to keep things clean and neat
Girls and boys play cowboys and Indians
Play goodies and baddies
Where the goodies always win in the minds of our children
Just a game, or so we’re taught… or so we’re taught… or so we’re taught…
We dressed up in our parents’ clothes. We soaked up every word they told us
“You’re not an Indian, after all – you’re the good one.”
Oh social conformity how did you ever take such a rooted hold on me
These stories and dreams so firmly grafted into our history
And I’m so gentle, and I’m so nice and good that I’d never truly know what I stood for
Now that my house and dreams align with the outlines of these city streets
Am I the repetition or the revolution to your power plays?
Am I the repetition or the revolution to your hear says?
Do I swim nice and neatly in the black and white or in the messy grey?
Where the waves blur me yet wash me of my sanitation
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