Yaphet Kotto

A will to survive; shackled and silent.
Oppressive self-religion holds us back.
Token hands close tightly around necks.
Neglecting those which would impair them.
Each chosen word burns through my heart.
Complacent standards torn apart.
But theres not room left for ignorance;
Whos held, legs prone to movement, all torn apart;
Whos held back us.
[ Status Symbol Lyrics ]