You saw protestors surrounding the fence, chanting, “I want to say that they really don’t care about us!” “C’mon, you know the truth!” “Enough with this garbage!” “I want to say they really don’t care about us.”

Your eyes narrowed, you feel a pang of determination simmering into your eyes. You pulled your sunglasses away from your eyes. The protestors immediately recognised you and anticipated your response. Before they even said a word, you beatboxed the beat of “They Don’t Care About Us.”

“Dead head,” you sang, “everyone gone bad.” you continued.

“Allegations, dog food.” Your singing grew intense, “bang, bang, shot dead.”

“Don’t black or white me, I want to say that they don’t really care about us.” You kicked the police officer in the face. “I am sick of being the victim of shame! You’re rippin’ my pride for god’s sake! ARRRGHH!!!”