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