Amidst the deep-green fields, stretching to a fainting distance buries the bones and footprints of my forefathers
My toes quivered at the loose dirt dancing under my feet
Throbbing now to the pace of my racing heart beat
I stand proud, black and worthy of this inheritance and rising knowledge to impart
Dark dust rises to re-create muscular, gyrating souls and tireless hands slashing trees, building tents, ploughing fields
And even more tender but weather-beaten hands picking cotton and dragging corn bags
the heavens darken to honor naked skins glistening with sweat
sharp leaves graze on backs throwing a fishing net
On these soaring grounds i stand proud, black and worthy
The offsprings of these hands and strength, drums a Yoruba feat.
Pulsating and gyrating in mad frenzy
Staggering rythmatically, and filling the moment, every chance they get
My people slaved, anticipated and celebrated 1838
the fundamentals of this history bids my soul free
chains burst from my ankles and wrists, freedom bellows through my soul, the mental shackles have been broken
here history unfolds
Drums ramble and rumble by hands young and old
So hang your worries on a shelf and emancipate yoself(twice)
free your minds, leap with your hearts
here is where black history starts
On these soaring grounds i stand proud, black, worthy and free!!
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