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This was written in Sanskrit
On the walls of ancient halls
Find meaning in the meandering dreams
Of indentured servants serving the whims
Of the fortunate few
The dead die once
The coward dies daily
The living whistle past the graveyard
Conjuring heroes from dust and curses
Prophets see the end of time
Kiss the stranger called here and now
B*tch slap the past with an open hand
We cant even remember our African names
Mumbling nomenclatures and aliases
With a rappers bravado
Neo Coons pimp their bodies
Mental Ho's in designer clothes
Freeze with a deer in the headlights stare
Recycled Reincarnated Negroes imagine the same story
Told on the plantation
Told in store front churches
Its milk and honey in heaven
So shuck and jive on earth
No good ole days for sons of slaves
We don't remember
Simple sambos
Suffer from Dixie Astigmatism
Southern Blindness
Blind to Klanish idiosyncrasies
Neckties conceal nooses
We still suffer
Blinking to the light of whats right...
