I know you guys were never masta's
You don't own a plantation
Some of you don't even own a home.
But when you rock your chair
And recline to my beats
I hope you know what waters
You're treading on.
I hope you don't consume my melodies
And decline acknowledging my daughters and sons.
Because our pain is nothing to smile about.
Our grief isn't for you to swim in.
If you nod to our beats.
Make sure your ready to sink in and be an ally.
Not just another song
I have to write about
To heal my wounds.