|

Because My Skin Is White

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 (ode to the Upper Middle Working Class Non-Electric Fan)

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 now some they claim I’m upper class a thespian and more
they search for lies and criticise it’s really such a bore
they dig out people on the net whose name it is the same
and think because we have a site we’re rich and soaked in fame
my friends admit they’re middle class all safe and sound secure
in dirty sheets on Hackney streets It’s different there for sure
I love that urban vibe you find the countryside is fine
but racism’s still dripping there from ev’ry place and sign
now some pretend they’re working class that mask of life again
but I wore cardboard in my shoes when I was nine or ten
yet still I was a millionaire compared to those who fight
I’m glad I live upon the edge because my skin is white

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 I’ve stood by shanty villages the corrugated homes
so far from my beloved Shed where rich folk sit and moan
a bit of this a bit of that I lead a crazy life
while way out in Zimbabwe they struggle to survive
and out in Ethiopia however much it’s changed
corruption thrives beneath the sand and in our midst the same
I work with bands from Africa I try to shed some light
it’s sometimes met with apathy because my skin is white

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 l lived through their apartheid I did the best I could
It all sounds hypocritical I always knew it would
I got on buses with my friends all Indian and Bantu
authorities would say to me just use white buses can’t you?
a football poet’s life is strange but nowhere near as hard
as those with houses made on sand or tin in some back yard
thank god I leave my cottage to see the other side
I try to do the do the best I can because my skin is white

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 I’ve lived in places without loos I’ve tended goats and herbs
I’ve wheeled the dead from hospitals I’m really quite absurd
I never had a father my mother worked in clubs
my step-dad beat me up sometimes and died outside the pub
I’ve drummed in poor black orphan homes & hitch hiked home and wept
I’ve seen the sadness and contempt for all that I project
it doesn’t matter what you do no Bono Bob or Ure
we’re still the rich colonialists just like we were before
our little football poetry our witty little words
will never save their awful plight it’s only for the birds
it doesn’t matter what you do however good or right
your heart is never visible because your skin is white

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 we say we’re multi-cultural at Womad in the sun
our Guardians and Chardonnays our “must be home by one”
our four by fours our football scores our over-greedy stars
our longing for celebrity the glamour and the cars
our eco-friendly pseudo words we’re so-aware today
we think we’ve conquered racism it never went away
wherever we go ego goes we run this human race
we’re up-our-bottoms aren’t we – we live in such a space
It doesn’t matter what you say to justify your days
reality is me me me where love is just a phase
however poor you are today switch off your DVD
you’re richer than you ever knew or ever dreamed you’d be
far richer than the millions there who die each day and night
whatever class we’re all the same because our skin is white.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 you put on bands and poetry for every cause you know
they turn around and point at you and tell you where to go
you try to stay so humble they say you are aloof
while leaders lie you try and try to hold onto the truth
we walk round with our eyes closed our acting hides our fears
we move to pictures on our screens watch rubbish through the tears
our little football poetry our witty little words
will never save their awful plight it’s only for the birds.
we say we’ll try until we die we think we’re so PC
you tell me what you did today for some new charity
but still we have a job to do we all can make a stand
the silly sixties dream I had restore it to this land
awaken now or laugh at me as Live 8 screens their plight
I’m driving down to Eden *because my skin is white..

written on the train on the way back from a workshop with football poet Rosemary Dun entitled Out of Africa…With big, big thanks to Kevin Raymond (the prolific one!)…and his great poem Because His Skin Is Black..it made me want to see it from the other perspective…also inspired by a song I Hate The White Man from a great artist Roy Harper.. still gigging and around today.. being hotly followed by his mulit-talanted son and singer-songwiter Nick Harper..check them out! In the meantime I’m off to Africa Live 8 at the amazing Eden Complex, in Cornwall..this weekend.. with only black artists..(luckily for me I know Siyaya from Bulawayo who are playing there !)..
Peace and Love. Believe in the Power of Fluff …you might as well…. nothing else seems to work!

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/because-my-skin-is-white/