stare and stare
across the isle at the necktie he wears
people steppin' up diggin' for the fare
a lady standing
and no one even cares
we're all just ridin'
with our nose in the air
another stop on the bus
some people boardin'
a different color than us
they hate to mingle
but no one makes a fuss
the thing about it
there's no one here we can trust
of all the sunday times of preachin'
where are the folks the script's been reachin'
they're hard to find
like its a crime to do good and brotherhood
seems no one will and the only thrill is doin' bad
its kinda sad
so all i'm trying to say is
what a way to waste the day
the black and the ofay work the same job for the pay
but it seems here lately we have nothin' to say