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Gray skies meet gray buildingswhich stand on gray stones.Along the long, ashen road,whereon many have troddenand many have fallen,I, too, treadwith subdued reverence.
Brought into the U.S. barely lived a life only two years old Didn't have a voice but now I pay the price Don't see half my family but I study every night What good is having good grades
What did we do? Why is it always us? Everytime we turn around It's another balck person down on the ground. Why do people hate us so bad? At first we were beaten, tortured, and onder appreciated.