Archetype

I was 'bout to wait, nothing but a dream
I was 'bout to wait, nothing but a dream
I was 'bout to wait, nothing but a dream
I was 'bout to wait, nothing but a dream

Maybe I will step into my light
Maybe I will finally do what's right
(But it won't be for you)
(But it won't be for you)

You took me for granted, you took off my bandages
I wasn't healed and I'm not your Candace
This isn't art and it's not for sale
You can't buy my pain like it's not conceptual
You can't own the space in between my thoughts like real estate
I know I'm real, but in my state I look like a beautiful painting of a corpse
But you made me pose, of course, mm
You can't make me kneel even with 500K

You can't make my people eat cow, just like I can't see eye to eye with you somehow
Just like you can't see eye to eye with your third eye, strip it down next time you cry, cry
We're sick and tired of the fake you be something real even if it's ugly shit
I said no to so many things when I had convictions
And the world breaks you down, and you start to wonder why you ever said no to begin with
Why you ever moved slow in the thickness?
Or you ever let the one you love fall while holding up
A false idol of another infinitely more insignificant friend
Was I ever a good friend?

Why did I gossip? Why did I pretend I didn't see you when I saw everything?
Something I couldn't fathom was how you believed everything
I said even when I was obviously embellished, I couldn't tell you this
I don't like your art, but I love your heart
I don't like your clothes, but I love your mind
I don't like your nose, but I love your eyes

White girls go to India and do yoga
Brown girls fight for their freedom in the caste system
We don't know the answers
But what happens when you're born with a brown father and a white mother
What happens when you look brown, but carry the weight of being a mixed kid
In the middle of nowhere else where no one else is
Where you're too brown for the white kids, and too watered down for the Vikings

And too weird for the artists
And too nice for the extremists
And too polite for the punks come
And to come for the come
Come here, kid
You're one of us, the Archetypes