So bold in fields of cotton
Clad in trousers of a poor man
It's those times
Fire on his back
Hands callused with toil
He bends like a bow
Pulled tight across the horizon
The sun sets low
No dinner tonight
Hunger the diamond motive
Freedom the faintest dream
Awareness frightens him
Hope beaten out
Long ago
I got these scars
But they still burn
Marks to wear until death
Take me soon
Buried
Freedom came at that price
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
So bold in fields of cotton
Clad in trousers of a poor man
It's those times
Fire on his back
Hands callused with toil
He bends like a bow
Pulled tight across the horizon
The sun sets low
No dinner tonight
Hunger the diamond motive
Freedom the faintest dream
Awareness frightens him
Hope beaten out
Long ago
I got these scars
But they still burn
Marks to wear until death
Take me soon
Buried
Freedom came at that price
Segregation and slavery are horrible things. It sickens me to believe this was a custom.
