The city's such a crowded place. It forces us to look at the way we look at ourselves, Because who I see in the mirror, And the picture I have in my mind, Isn't always the same thing reflected in stranger's eyes. Make a catalog of all of my actions. Write it down, fold it up, and keep it in my pocket. Hold it close until I can answer the question. What do I represent in this context? (A history of centuries of oppression.) Because I don't know who I am, Or what it looks like behind the veil, And I've just become a little more aware. It's a sign of my privilege, That I've never had to deal with this kid of labeling. Take a train ride 100 miles north, Find the same situations as before. It's a socially created relationship about domination, And a subordinate. And I don't want any part of it. But everything plays a part in it