Retching On the Dirt

I'm retching on the dirt

It's earthiness coating my throat

I'm wincing on the bitterest pill

I refuse to swallowI'm offered the warmth of a velvet glove

An iron fist to some

I'm treated like a scab

A traitor in my kindI'm hounded by white-right might

That wants the country pure

I'm incensed by those in awe

Of living amongst their ownSelective perfection will cut their own throats

I'm constantly forcing the point

But we're all retching on dirt

And we'll choke if we don't spit it out