Child, don’t know why da sons and daughters of slaves break into dem prisons,
built on top the graves of der fallen slave fathers?
Young mens and young women s herded into some steel gray hall,
forced into locked cells between barren walls resurrected over der still wet earthen wounds
while we former slaves is still yet a sleeping in da graves
running to dem places to be kept as captive mens and women s
trapped inside 18th century dungeons with new over seers - understand- slave bosses.
More un 300 years, slave sons and daughters a laboring over masters fields
growing cotton crops, used up - unpaid laborers- a picking, prickling,
and a dropping in the summer’s heat
dey was a laboring sun up to sun down - called us chattel -
property counted among they’s owners most a treasured belongings
The men’s and women’s forced, bruised, beaten, and maimed
laborers raising up wealthy money crops - cotton, rice, and sugar canes.
Housed in huts on slave plantations, an a - some- most strong,
runned away, and like to died or did on this here land.
Savages, dey was called us to justify kidnaping Africa’s children’s
and no body knows how many a died in the middle of da sea, coming here, da America
They called it a middle passage, no one knows how many survived, but dead anyhow.
Now, God himself raise up da people’s out bondage
Our God himself delivered the people’s out of bondage
And da peoples craved no drug but emancipation -
freedom, dignity, and respect.
Dey wanted only to be free mens and women s ... free .. Hear me free...
And da freedoms done come to us, some us share cropped, a surviving by toils and wits,
and by mercies, some saved and borrowed bought lands... good lands
came independent free men’s and fine ladies, many a men made travels to work,
lived in flop houses, we fighters and died for our freedom’s to the very day,
to make it better for ‘you all’s.’
We had many a pains and sufferings, an injustices,
torments yet we was honorable mens and women s
when we was living close to God, loved God, and worshiped God.
Child, greatness and sorrows buried on the lands.
And so we s don’t know why the sons and daughters of slaves break into dem prisons-
built on top the graves of der fallen slave fathers?
Running into jails- armed camps- set aside to hold young men’s and young women’s der,
And dey be a keeping captive, da mens and women s, behind dem bob wire fences,
locked up and locked down in four by eight foot block cells,
ordered by steely guards to get up, sit down, turn around, and bends over.
Child, child, der’s a sorrow in the lands.
O’ can ya hear us praying, a pleading - child-
yours grandmas and grandpas a buried on this very here land.
"stop dat child" you go be free go be free...
be free...you is free."
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