My sunrise is morning to be whipped
It’s the hot sun in cotton picking on the plantation
The Master forces you to give him information
My thought of Freedom being a proclamation
I can’t even express my own explanation
I pray oh Lord
I am your faithful following in accord
Oh those beaten days
The long seemingly days
The Master continues to beckons
I pray to the Lord that he changes his ways
Being a slave certainly can’t stay
Beaten paths
Escape to where and how?
One day just one day
Freedom will reign
I may not be alive to see
But my Soul will know in everything Freedom should be
A Slave’s eyes see distance beyond any mortal’s demise, but wisdom and understanding keeps our focus in remaining wise.