Motion sickness feeling poor
Crumbs of wheat on the threshing floor
Struggling to ease the pain and suffering
Babies don’t have a say so in their mother’s sin
Their fathers are sick off of medicine
If hell is hot heaven must be a breeze
Someone’s watching someone’s knocking
Wake up the prophet on his knees
We are people are we free
Scattered from sea to sea
Shore to shore
In the stormy seas
Swim the ocean just to be poor
Shown to the back door
Trying to get a hold of ourselves
To keep from choking the wealth
Out of someone else
Did I say that…I better get a hold of myself?
They make too many movies about slavery
It’s not helping the situation
The people are too patient
Too many pages before revelation