Over evening dinner, wine not to red
Over the plantation fields, filled with dying who’d rather be dead
It’s a sad day when architects don’t see
Their empty words of redundancy
Equality they feign with their words,
But truth is they know the work of the herds
The cruelty they endure and their rights given false
Deaths Dutch uncle does his waltz
His job made easy of who to choose,
The man in his house stirring in bed or the one who suffered bruise and abuse
o come man surely you must surely jest,
that this is not injustice unseen by many, even our best,
perhaps humanity should strive to reinvest
the quality that makes us so detest
our fellow brothers
given our druthers
I know time will tell us true
I know god will give me my due