Jon Corbin - Confessions of a Mixed (Up) Kid lyrics

[Verse 1] Yes, yes, we all know the narrative What's wrong bro? Ferguson's scaring ya? Then the world reacts - all too embarra**ing? Eyes all around, you can feel them staring in? Well that's what I'm on right now Just watch me walk around in my small town Pretty, but pretty white It's silly, I still fright That they'll only see me as black when I mostly feel white I'm a mixed-up kid In a self-a**igned, much maligned suburban bid But focus on aesthetics will only leave me indebted More like in chains on a slavery refrain Do I fit in because I'm paper bag vetted? Do you like me because your black appetite is whetted through Much Music and MTV? Full of your expectations? I am empty, see? My cultural shorthand is too innate to express The attempt only puts my mind in duress Yes, this messed up psychology bothers me and possibly hinders my movements on every shopping spree [Verse 2] I remember when I first heard Lawrence Hill Connect me with young brothers up in Forest Hill I didn't start from the bottom but I knew I had a problem My rolling stone papa treated me as forgotten My high school years down in Lorne Park Intelligent kid, I am going far But the black side of town was the foreign part And you know I was judged well before the start But never mind the black folks I just love the black jokes! Especially playing stereotypes Ham it up for my friends, it's embarra**ing right? Until I got stopped one embarra**ing night 5-0, drive slow wasn't steering me right Already backing down not preparing to fight I knew it wasn't racial but the scariest sight was Even though I was wrong I could swear I was right! [Verse 3] Maybe there isn't a question here Maybe you just need to give an invitation to speak And trust me, if it's an invitation I trust I will bust Because of too many years of The Question You know the question: "Jon, Where Are You From?" But you never accept ‘Canada' as the answer It's not a micro-aggression for me Because it tears open this box of memories Blowing up my past sending shrapnel into my present reality Your answer to this question is, "My dad is from Guyana" My answer is much more complex It's the generations of Swiss & German settlements Years of farming, keeping the peace & serving The Lord My mom is not merely white, just as my dad is not merely black And oh the doors you open when you fish for my non-Canadian heritage You just remind me of the broken father who didn't how to love Who pa**ed down no cultural inheritance Giving me nothing but a chest tightening fear every time I have to interact with a black person See I'm a mixed up kid A mixed up kid with a white family who accepts me Who give me a secure sense of self when I'm with them So it's okay if you see black Just keep the whole picture intact And if you don't see black or you lack tact? Well, we've got much more to discuss than that [Outro] It's still a fight I'm still wrestling wrong and right Lord, can you help me be me? And even when it's not okay, all I know is I can't run away Lord I'ma try and be me