You rise to a clanging gong before the break of dawn
Halfheartedly trying to wipe the daze of sleep from your face
It hasn't been long since you put your head on the dusty ground
You utter a little prayer as you look down at your calloused hands
Maybe today you might not feel the stinging lick of a whip on your back
You heave and labor beneath the scorching sun
And your only drink is the sweat that trickles into your mouth from your brow
So far your prayer was for nothing as the overseer delivers lash after lash
Of his whip to your scar patterned back crying “faster, faster!”
But the weight of the harness on your neck and the chains
On your hands and feet restrict your pace
That doesn't count for much to him whose only joy is to tear your skin
With his favorite toy  
In the nearby estate beneath an old willow
Your sister is hanging naked by a rope
Her shrill screams cut through the tension in the air
And a midst every sickening crack of the whip against her tender skin
You only hear the pained desperation in her cries
But the assembly of slaves forced to watch this barbaric spectacle
Can only but look on at the torture and humiliation of one of their own
Their hands are tied by mental chains that hold them down to nothingness

Black child of the African womb
Once a proud and spirited youth
Who freely roamed over plains and mountains
And sang and danced to drumbeats in festivities around village fires
The brightness of your future shone white in your eyes
Your dark skin glistened in the sun like melted cocoa
Now you've been reduced to a beast of burden
Your spirit broken under a harness and whip
On another land beyond oceans from your motherland
A parched grey is all that remains of your once slick black skin
And a dull red stain of anger and pain now covers your once bright eyes
Freedom is a right you’ve been told is irrelevant to you
But somehow you crave it more than anything
Whenever you’ve tried to reclaim it
You were hunted down like vermin and subjected to unthinkable atrocities
Still you hunger and thirst for a day when the chains will crumble
When the light of dawn will creep up from behind the hills
And find you sleeping peacefully into the morning
When the day will be saturated with a pleasant awakening of senses
From the beautiful song of a bird on a blossoming tree
To the graceful dancing of delicate butterflies over a hissing stream
But for now you are a slave