"Ok, lets get this going, shall we? Action!"

The tiny little kids danced around me with their arms joined. They all sang the same thing in the bazaar, Brazilian language.

"Michael, eles nao ligam pra gente. Michael, eles nao ligam para gente. Michael, it is not legal for change." They chanted. I looked at them as if I wanted to help, but I couldn't.

Then the music started playing, and the children dispersed, running around with paper flags displaying the peace insignia. I looked around, now aware of my location: a balcony over looking a poverty ridden city. People crowded the street wearing clothes that had been on their bodies for days. Many of them you could see rib bones and cheek bones poking through the skin just slightly. I looked upon these less fortunate with much regret and pity.

Then came for my cue, I looked up and the sky, shielding my eyes from the sun.

"Skin head, dead head, everybody gone bad. Situation, aggravation, everybody allegation. In the suite, on the news, everybody dog food. Bang, bang, shot dead, everybody gone mad." I sang towards the sky. I then looked at the people in the streets.

"All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us." Some of the kids began to beat big drums. "All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us." They beat the drums again. Da da da, da da da.

Now I was in the streets with them, except they cleared a space unconsciously as they walked by. I moved my shoulders a bit, spreading my feet apart and then bringing them back together. I stuck out my arm and then brought a horizontal flat hand to the sky.

"Beat me, hate me, you can never break me. Will me, thrill me, you can never kill me. Jew me, sue me, everybody do me. Kick me, kike me, don't you black or white me!" I brought my elbow to my side, swinging it back and forth. Dragging my hand across my chest, I curled it into a fist and punched an invisible barrier in front of me.

"All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us. All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us."

Now I was by a bunch of people, all staring in front of them blankly. I rested my elbow on one of their shoulders, looking into their zombie-like face with much passion.

"Tell me what has become of my life. I have a girl and three friends who love me, but I'm a victim of police brutality, no. I'm tired of being a victim of hate. They're rapin' me of my product, for God's sake. I'm undercover to fulfill this prophecy, set me free."

"Skin head, dead head, everybody gone bad. Trepidation, speculation, everybody allegation. In the suite, on the news, everybody dog food. Black man, black mail, throw your brother in jail."

I was on the balcony again, raising my hands up to the sky in salute.

"All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us! All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us!" then I screamed to the top of my lungs.

Now I was in an alleyway, with roads made of cobblestone brick and dud apartments above. Clothes hung on dirty lines, drips of filfthy water fell from the tin roofs.

"Tell me what has become of my rights." I moved me body back and forth, swaying with the beat. I put my hands on my heart and marched forward. "Am I invisible because you ignore me? Your proclamation promised me free liberty. I'm tired of being a victim of shame. You're throwin' me in the class with a bad name. I can't believe this is the land from which I came!" I raised my hands in the air, bringing them down and clapping them together. I raised them up again.

"You know I really do hate to say, the government don't wanna see, but if Roosevelt was livin', he wouldn't let this be, no no." I Indianwalked in a circle about three times in a row, singing this,

"Skin head, dead head, everybody gone bad. Situation, speculation, everybody litigation. Beat me, bash me, you can never trash me. Hit me, kick me, you can never get me."

"All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us. All I want to way is that, they don't really care about us. AOWW!" I brought my hand out in the shape of a gun, shooting an invisible bullet towards the crowd of police.
I walked on top of a weather rotten roof and waved to the people, who were beating drums and dancing around like savages. They were all screaming towards the police "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT US!"

The army of police charged, buttons in hand and shields in the other. Tear gas bombs were thrown, but the rioters screamed on. Fire hoses were brought out, spraying the people with water that could rip the bark off of trees. I watched in pure helplessness.

I Indianwalked and stomped my feet on the ground, water streaming from my eyes. I jumped once, bringing my body to the ground with much force. The building swayed as I screamed again. The people in the streets stopped fighting and looked up as the earth shook them out of their rage. I stood on the edge of the roof and looked down at them.

"Some things in life, they just don't wanna see, but if Martin Luther was livin', he wouldn't let this be, no no!" then I looked toward the crowd, eyes transfixed on me. With one small leap, I jumped off the building roof.

Now I was in the cobblestone brick alley. People were hanging out of the windows, yelling my name and screaming the five letter sentence.

"Skin head, dead head, everybody gone bad. Situation, segregation, everybody, allegation. In the suit, on the news, everybody dog food. Kick me, strike me, don't you wrong or right me."

"Hee hee! Hoo hoo! Hee hee! Hoo!"

Now I was in the middle of the crowd, but now they were all mingled in their gawk. In spun around on my heels and stopped, whipping my mouth.

"All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us." He crowd sang. And rioter and a police officer rose up their hands together, entwining each others grip. "All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us. All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us."

"You're all, deep in the fire now! I'm dead to remind you! Don't you stop the dread now baby!" I sang in between the sentences.

"All I want to say is that, they don't really care about—"

"All I want to say is that, they don't really care about—"

"All I want to say is that, they don't really care about us."

I Indianwalked with a little boy playing a small drum. He didn't have a shirt on, just ripped jeans. His ribs were showing, yet he still had a smile on his face.