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Your thought process is precious, when soul is manifest.
In the fire of black hearts..
I am a practitioner of the black arts.. Not hocus pocus get your mind
To focus on the fire you possess.
With fresh bloodstains they tried to tame the flame,
Riding wing's of Jim Crow fanning smoldering cinders
of those who remember culture thieves who stole original knowledge
and called it philosophy..
Inner light hold with all your might. Faceless ghosts try to separate this fire from soul.. Swinging from a tree cold..
Evil man take away my body you can't destroy soul..
Soul that makes me lean when I drive.
Soul that gives rhythm to my walk..
Man seeks to extinguish fire, patrolling the streets with guns for hire...
Cold eyes betray jealously envy and hunger, hungry for that warmth
Inside me. But this personal inferno burns eternal....
Remember, your thought process is precious when soul is manifest.
In the fire of black hearts..
