It’s paradise.
The waters are clear, the mountains are high and the food is hearty.
And the people, ohh we know how to party.
Every swerve of the hip and sip of Brugal serves as electro shock therapy.
Seizures provide relief from our collective psychiatric illness.
Electroconvulsive therapy, what a controversial psychiatric treatment.
With side effects such as long term memory loss and confusion it helps us live in our illusions.
That the reason why we can’t swim the clear waters is due to its tides, not to our pride.
Or to our belief that hair straighteners, perms, clip-ons and added heat will finally make us white.
So we live on an island that’s made for the people we wish to be.
They swim in our waters without worrying about their mane,
and leave their profits to the Spanish while our people live in famish.
White eggs dissolve our horrid past while we read tazas to ensure our future.
We treasure tradition while forgetting its origins.
We are shams in our own culture.
Our noses, our butts, our hair and thunder thighs were made to occupy the entire vicinity of our space bubble.
So much so that we have no choice but to hug, feel and love those living in the same struggle.
The waters are clear, the mountains are high and the food is hearty.
But our future much like our past is murky.
For generations we’ve been brainwashed by a man who wanted nothing more than to be someone else.
Wanted nothing more than to wake up and see a land reflective of the person he wished to be.
Like a horrible parent he made his children feel useless, powerless and orphans in their own skin.
And just like that his children learned to treat their kin.
Cycles of abuse created mental disorders that we can no longer treat on our own.
Conventional therapy cannot aid those who were raised by their government to fear the sound of their own voice.
With every twitch and convulsion we are relieved of our disorders.
When the sun comes down with it so does the pain of living in a land that isn’t ours.
The only red we see is that of the sunset and velvet ropes that stand in front of our most prominent discotecas.
It’s paradise.

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