Once a dream begging for freedom
now a reality begging for liberation
The pigment of black civilization
Wealth is a meal prepared with the tears of the privileged

I see as far as i am,
buried in the ashes of poor growth,
A tale of the nagger stays short,
were illiterates speak with a loose mouthpiece,
were i live with my hands on my head,
My Soul to mouth,
A day for a knife and bread,
Another for the morn of sweet,

I see  graduates asking for a clocks,
As the future is now,
Make hail they say because the sun stopped shinning,
for my lamp is short of oil,
Just like in Xenadu- kubla khan said it flows but my vision is dull now,

Change is when you have changed,
For is there no morals for being different,
A preacher is as good as his book of salvation,
For his follower would soon build a tower of stone against his WISDOM