Slave ships and legal sanctions bought the races together, many, many years ago. On slave ships we bartered for the human soul. In courts we screamed, bickered and fought on the fields of Gettysburg and sang battle hymns to free my ole’ poor soul because my color is a prison.
My world is one of no freedom. I cannot have the things they have, because they will only take my blood; my soul in this legal systems that only wants to write laws against me. What is justice? What is my justice, as I die on the desert washed in the sands of time. I can hardly breathe as the dogs of war chase me out the USA.
I can’t be so stupid as to forget that their smiles are really a prison for me. I know they hate me. They will always hate me in a justice system that has bought me from the sands of Africa. And mixed me up, called me nigger at their dinner tables, in their dreams, in their jokes, in their barbershops. And strung me up and cut my penis off and fed it to the dogs of the Klan.
Most of my brothers are in AIDS jail. Fathers, sons, mothers, daughters all are dead and buried in this American hill of race hatred that’s based on our judicial system. Am I wrong? This country, this place is hell on earth to a black man, this place is not for me, but yet I fight on as my ancestors do. Struggle and fight the hands that try to lock me away or kill me in war where all poor black-Chicano boys go. I will die before you, living breathing for this freedom air. Why, it is only luck that I am so called able to prowl the streets like the black cat.
How long Lord, how long.