Some days
I cannot help but wonder
What I have become
They have thrown this darkness
At me and squeezed out
Every ounce of innocence from me
What have I become?
A shadow of myself?
when I climb real high
you go huffing and puffing
you hide yourself away and let out a sigh
i often wonder why you hate
when i'm soaring and winning
does my freedom belittle you
does my smile come to you as a wicked surprise
Now that you're gone.
O' now that you're gone!
Do I dream of the good old days when we played in the sun?
When I want you to pour your love on me.
When I want your love like 90s soul and midsummer blues.
Then I wake and I turn and I remember that you're gone.
Being black is surviving the aftermath of a forced marriage
between two songs that should have never been played together.
One song has rhythm, the other doesn't.
One song is a tale of late-night stories underneath the moon
and the softness of grandma's voice.
This song is a fusion of afrobeats, highlife, coral beads, cultural dances,
a communion of tribes and languages,
a coming together of kings and queens.