His mother had told him when he was just young

There'll be things you can do

But some can't be done

And you won't be able to always have fun

'Cause your color is black

And some won't accept that

And oh dear what can the matter be

Oh dear what can the matter be

Oh dear what can the matter be

Now time moves on and the world moves fast

No time for flowers

No place to grow grass

There's no fishing hole where he used to go

Just a four story factory with billows of smoke

And oh dear what can the matter be

Oh dear what can the matter be

Oh dear what can the matter be

Complications have grown from society's rot

Their ideas keep moving

But the old way's still taught

Though his mind is his own

It seems all that he's got

Six months in jail for just smoking pot

And oh dear what can the matter be

Oh dear what can the matter be

Oh dear what can the matter be