You look at me and ask yourself
Who am I?
What am I?
What have I to do?
I`m a Latina, nada mas, nothing more
Why do I have to pay for my father crossing that border,
For my father proving your race,
That he didn`t need your language,
He didn`t need your education
Nor did he need your approval
To be what he is today.
You look at my father
My America is full of these wetbacks
Who made your America
what it is now,
Full of immigrants
Full of ignorance
Full of foreigners
Who will never be white
Yet you forget that once America put up such a fight
With these non-whites,
These folks full of color,
And who do you think won?
Look around you.
What do you see,
Nothing but minorities all around
Be careful for soon you will be slapped in the face when you see that you are now working for these foreigners....