This silence in my head,
Was born like a flower,
Of some foreign nature.
Darkness brings out the vanity of my soul,
And I say to every day,
Passing my way,
I shall return to dust again.
So two shall the shadows of moon and men,
And women will dance to lies,
They taught their children,
Inside walls of desperation.
A silence that will not wait for my soul to rise,
From the wilderness of the ghettoes.
The voices which confuse the ear,
But opens up the mind to every harsh reality.
Such is the silence,
We as black people carry,
And if we say we are ashamed,
It is because our anger rules,
On the tears our children hold back.
Soon, to dust our ways,
Like humble soldiers will fall,
And our children will erect images of us again.