Back then, I was the color of coal

Chained and whipped with a lash

Now all I have is my dignified soul

With an exterior of bloody ash 

I work from dusk till early dawn 

My hands ache from the pain of it all

The others let out a simple yawn

But Alas! They are puppet masters - and I their doll

Oh, how I wish for freedom to come one day 

For I cannot simply run away

The gun would shoot me, don't you see?

With the pesky silver bullets it holds

If I ever walk away free

I'll fall along the roads knocked out cold 

I fear for death, for what comes after it?

God shall save me sometime soon I suppose 

Sure, they have brawns yet I have wit

But should I sleep for eternity or a short doze 

I am lying here still in pain

So what else do I have to gain