story of a yellow white boy and a blue brown girl
up against the odds, us against the world
but this was no Verona
no story near as noble
as the west side of New York

if I dug a hole in my back yard
and I dug and I dug and I didn’t burn up
I would come up somewhere
squinting in the glare
near the house where she comes from.

I never heard a name like hers before
she’s got the sweetest accent in her voice
I never seen dark eyes as bright before
she likes our infrastructure and our boys, but
what would they say back home?

not with a bang, but with a whimper we finished
one sweet sweet girl didn’t know what hit her
and the boy who played decider
had only one desire
to stick his face down in the sand.


you know what they’d say back home.

cause on American streets we’d pass her people
monochrome cliques spittin’ passing needles
she would never translate
I would read it on her face
I don’t know what they were thinking
they were not the ones betrayed.


I’d like to blame the world
I’d like to blame the world
I’d like to blame the world