Bandit skin of Program Intuition

The Bandit Skin of Programed Intuition, Ray Scott Simeon was an extraverted introvert on holidays from work Headin’ home on highway 6 after a pint with an online girl He was flagged down on the shoulder By two tan skinned men pulled over Hoods pulled down, black covid mask round And a broken down moving van Simmie stopped at moral crossroads n’ nervously rolled down the window One of them bandits said as he stuck in his head, that their gasoline gauge was broke He opened the door, stuttered when he spoke, so Simmeon awkwardly joked, As long as you don’t kill me, won’t ya’ hop in the seat, we’ll getcha’a jerry can at Petro And then the moving man asked the driver, Do you wear your colour on your skin just like a sleeve? Do you roll it up and down depending on who you might meet? You know, you might change in sunlight or wherever you may roam But your skin’s no indication of the place we both call home Well, the driver was full of questions as he drove to the gas station, Head of horror scenes from hitchhike flicks, his hatchback drove on intuition Bandit told him their story, while his friend stayed with the truck They were four hours late, in the wrong place with all of another man’s stuff By the time they got it sorted, the man refused to pay The police were called and righted the wrongs, they were there to mediate The driver parked outside the Petro, Bandito got a jerry can Turned out he was just a hard working son and a kind and honest man And the driver hung his head and sighed, ashamed, Do I wear my colour on my skin, just like a sleeve? Do I trust my learned perceptions or do they even trust me? Do I change my skin in weather, do I wear it like it’s clothes? Is my skin my indication of the place that I call home? The man filled the can, they drove back to the van, the night was no longer day And they both thanked he, so sincerely, and he joked deflectively He yelled, get that gas can outta’ my car, it’s caused an awful smell If his guilt could see just what he saw in him, he’d be driving straight home to ignorance n’ fears’ prisons’ coward-Caucasian hell They smiled and waved and cried, Do you wear your colour on your skin, just like a sleeve? Do you roll it up and down again depending on your friends? You know skin gets thicker in winter and peels off in July What colour was your baby skin when you first opened your baby eyes? You know, skin may change in sunlight or wherever you may roam But is your skin an indication of the place we all call home? Is your skin your home, is it a programmed tone Do you feel safe in the colour of your skin, If it’s the colour of, The windows and the front door to your home?