Even before 1619 chains and tormentors guided our fate’s
Decisions made by masters of disasters, calamity incarnate
Strict with the lash, fast with cash, made to be last
Ground into mash and left in the past
Hundreds of years drowning in the struggle
Voices ignored and submerged into a gurgle
Each strike an etching of fear to remind of us we belong in the rear
We belong under their heel, we belong in a field
Our place standing as equal, not real
'1865 and the wool is pulled further over our eye’s
The lies fly fast when equality is subject
You matter, you’re worthy, you’re heard and valued
Just enough to serve and just enough to observe
Now they tell me we’ve been unshackled from the hassle
Now our voices are as powerful as the masters
Now actions matter
With my newfound freedom, I looked behind the curtain
Found a sinister grin hiding a truth that leads us right back to where we began
Where my freedom of choice is blocked by the path to move forward
Where my value is determined buy profits that profit from me as a product
Forever a slave to shackles of titles that never really matter
Shackles of false power and influence
Shackles of masters too blind to see the new face staring at them from inside the veil
Forever beaten blue and yellow.
