|
Am I not your prejudice
because my skin is black,
because I posses refinements
you know that you do lack.
Am I not your slave then,
because you fear my strength,
and why you try to keep me,
at a long arms length.
Let us toast the ladies,
indeed to let them know,
that men are ever grateful,
that life in them doth grow,
That they are not our servants,
to do with as we will,
to ask of them to give us life,
that we can kill and kill.
Oh let us go on lying,
pretending we are great,
on each other ever spying,
and dispersing all our hate.
Let us keep on believing,
that God is on our side,
because all we are achieving,
was the reason Jesus died.
Let us write our History,
with a biased pen,
appointing those believed in,
as the most important men.
Let us build our statues,
to those who served us best,
though they rose to fame by killing,
to achieve their greedy quest.
Let us paint fine portraits,
of murderers and Saints,
who select their own artists
who minds not the lie he paints.
Let us carve out a History,
to suit our future dreams,
that our current joy and laughter,
drowns out all the screams...
...... then let us seek the truth,
and thus erase the lie,
and stand as living proof,
that it is for freedom that we die.
Freedom from ourselves,
from our own desires to hate,
that love overwhelms ...
before it is to late.
|