Long Line Of History
The tears I cry are those of a sinner who’s lost his way.
The pain I feel is that of a lonely child about to decay
The blisters in my feet are from women who have carried on the world
And me from their hometowns to their nomads
My arms are from warriors who have fought in the war of freedom and death’
My eyes are from fortune tellers of this nation.
My ears are carved from the fine hands of Mozart
So I can play and compose my own work of art.
My mind branches off into the many trees of ancestries who were teachers and lawyers
My back is bruised from riding in the front with old cowboys and westerns
My mouth is in the shape of poets and philosophers so I can teach the word to my followers.
My heart beats to pump the blood of revolutionary generations who right war coordinations
My body is split to feed the many kids subject to poverty and alienation
My hair is cut off for those who need warm clothing
My love is the temple for holy and non holy domination.
I am breed to be the finest of my family relation, my history pulsing through my veins for me to read
My fingers were formed to sign to my deaf brothers and sisters
My face designed for a place for little kids with crippling disease and finger paint
My knees came from those of a queen who did not buckle when asked to kneel
The spirit I have came from a long line of men and women who are real.
I was breed to carry on my legacy for all of those who follow me
And my unknown teachings
I was born to start, help, create, make, loan, lend, break and mend revolutions
To give water to the dead, to feed the soulless and have the soulless feed.
I was created with legs from a father who practiced what he wrote and never broke making sure to keep up the buildings of his home.
My nails are charted for me to scratch away the bad, sad, mad, and lonely people to make them smile.
And my voice, my voice was made to speak for all of the ones who couldn’t, who are silent, who are mute, who are deaf, who are blind, hurt, angry, locked away, ashamed, left out, broken, poor, rich, gay, straight, homeless, nameless, unborn, dead and unspoken for.
My voice is that of the many men and women who need to sing and talk and voice their pain.
My voice was made so you and your grandkids can live without fear.
My voice was made for me to tell people to let go and live.
My voice was made to RISE.
The pain I feel is that of a lonely child about to decay
The blisters in my feet are from women who have carried on the world
And me from their hometowns to their nomads
My arms are from warriors who have fought in the war of freedom and death’
My eyes are from fortune tellers of this nation.
My ears are carved from the fine hands of Mozart
So I can play and compose my own work of art.
My mind branches off into the many trees of ancestries who were teachers and lawyers
My back is bruised from riding in the front with old cowboys and westerns
My mouth is in the shape of poets and philosophers so I can teach the word to my followers.
My heart beats to pump the blood of revolutionary generations who right war coordinations
My body is split to feed the many kids subject to poverty and alienation
My hair is cut off for those who need warm clothing
My love is the temple for holy and non holy domination.
I am breed to be the finest of my family relation, my history pulsing through my veins for me to read
My fingers were formed to sign to my deaf brothers and sisters
My face designed for a place for little kids with crippling disease and finger paint
My knees came from those of a queen who did not buckle when asked to kneel
The spirit I have came from a long line of men and women who are real.
I was breed to carry on my legacy for all of those who follow me
And my unknown teachings
I was born to start, help, create, make, loan, lend, break and mend revolutions
To give water to the dead, to feed the soulless and have the soulless feed.
I was created with legs from a father who practiced what he wrote and never broke making sure to keep up the buildings of his home.
My nails are charted for me to scratch away the bad, sad, mad, and lonely people to make them smile.
And my voice, my voice was made to speak for all of the ones who couldn’t, who are silent, who are mute, who are deaf, who are blind, hurt, angry, locked away, ashamed, left out, broken, poor, rich, gay, straight, homeless, nameless, unborn, dead and unspoken for.
My voice is that of the many men and women who need to sing and talk and voice their pain.
My voice was made so you and your grandkids can live without fear.
My voice was made for me to tell people to let go and live.
My voice was made to RISE.