As the molecules that reside inside
the caves of my skull travel from
zone to zone my nerves begin
to roam like a nomad searching
for a lost place called home,
the hidden forbidden treasure
in the deep depths of my soul;
the pressure steadily rising,
while my eyes casually gazes upon
the Sun's beautiful setting along
the earth's horizon;
my eardrums relate the message to
my brain that my verizon is ringing,
answer the wire;
all praise to the Sire;
on the other end is a young brother
speaking on the revolutionary uprising,
mentioning words that shouldn't be heard
over open lines;
hang up immediately;
I refuse to allow fake brothers to
infiltrate a panther's mind;
back to the pain that's so hard to
explain to folks who are mentally chained,
shackled in the government's scheme;
thinking every man can acquire the
american dream;
when the reality is a u.s nightmare;
I can hear my insides twisting and churning,
upset cause our people done stopped learning;
no longer unified with Black Pride;
few have money, while most struggle to survive;
what happened to the strength of boycotts,
set inns, marches, and protest against the
politically unjust;
I guess folk done forgot about Malcolm's and Martin's
assassination plots;
interrupted our dream by any means necessary;
knew that those two combined would have been
legendary(too scary);
Now it's 2003, a whole new century and Black
history seems to be another...
