Last Night’s Dream (Again)
Born without the paint
We sweep on our bodies
Signs of tribes and tribulations
Come to define our insides.
What of those
Who are marked by another
Who bare the burden of enemy pen?
Leaning on their lean and pestulant brothers,
Soul defies body and rattles the pen.
Let us out! Let us out!
Break us free of our numbers.
We’ll shake on our shackles,
‘Til your ears hear our cries.
While you sleep in your warmth
And you feel her heart beating,
May you hear “Let us out!”
As our smoke rises high.
These numbers you have given,
Add them up from every arm,
And let it sum the hearts
That will live as we die.
We are here, in this sty
In this mad dirty cradle,
But I gaze at the sky
And I know my sister’s free.
And she will love,
And she will pray,
As my ashes grace this stable,
And her child,
Call him David,
Will see another day.
He will see another day.
And here my dust will stay,
As he breathes a world away.
And with time, I will meet him,
Somewhere green and free of smoke,
And we’ll speak, but not of you, man,
Because your heaven is a joke.
