Verse 1 He sat there folding hatred into everyday words, Like it was normal conversation over cold tea and burnt nerves. Talking ‘bout people fleeing wars like they’re stains on the street, Like pain only matters when it speaks with his accent and his grief. Every sentence got uglier the longer it lived, Half-truth politics twisted into permission to spit venom with a grin. He kept saying “they” like humanity was divisible, Like empathy’s a privilege and cruelty is political. And I watched someone I grew up beside Turn fear into identity, Turn ignorance into pride. Pre-Chorus I swear the room changed shape, The air got heavy in my lungs, ‘Cause hate sounds different When it comes from someone you love. Chorus And it sickened me— The casual poison falling from his teeth, Like whole lives were beneath him, Like bloodlines decide who gets to breathe. He spoke in headlines, slogans, flags and blame, Never seeing human faces through the smoke he helped create. And I don’t know what hurts worse tonight: The words he said— Or knowing he believed them. Verse 2 He thinks anger makes him wise, Thinks volume means he’s seeing through the lies. But there’s nothing revolutionary About recycling old hate, Nothing “strong” about punching down At people trying to escape. He talked about borders like morality ends at the sea, Like children in rubber boats are somehow enemies. Like desperation is contagious, Like compassion is naïve, As if being born somewhere else Makes somebody less worthy. And every time I pushed back, He dug deeper in the dirt, Treating racism like opinion Instead of what it really is: hurt. Bridge What happened to the kid I knew? The one who cried when stray dogs died, The one who hated bullies at school, The one still buried somewhere inside. Now he parrots men on glowing screens Who profit from division and fear, And calls it “just being honest” While dehumanizing people standing here. Final Chorus Yeah, it sickened me— How easy hatred rolled off his tongue, Like history never happened, Like we’ve learned nothing from what hate becomes. And maybe he’ll never hear The ugliness in what he said, But I’ll carry that conversation Like broken glass inside my head. ‘Cause racism rarely arrives screaming in white hoods anymore— Sometimes it walks in wearing family faces And sits beside you at the table.
