In a time we fail to understand the truth behind conscious,
Perception only the third eye can see all we have is history and media propaganda and lies.
It’s so few of us that it’s easy to set up and plan a formal demise,
We use to get death but now the new slavery in prison our bodies survive.
Nothing comes free or without sacrifice,
Like the greats Martin Luther King keep our eyes on the prize,
Or the great Maya Angelou still I’ll rise.
I’m black hands clinched hand in the air screams of Black power,
I won’t flinch or step back an inch,
Tears run down a mother’s and father’s face as they claim their child gunned down by police,
All they can do is cry.