Kings

Looking into the eyes of a young girl The story is told even now The past is behind us forever But who's to say that the world's any better? The dream for the children Was spoken out loud A memory, fading with time The wishes of kings By both name and soul Atypical, altered Supposedly so The eloquent testimony In a rapacious place So courageously presented By the discriminated race A "symbol of purity" Destroying their pride They still stood back up They continued to fight The young girl stares back And I think of many things Among them; The harmony of the two colors As piano keys Then again I must wonder, Why were white men "so much better" If their own color, defined, is the presence of them all? What satisfaction Can come from no action Adhering to the words of the kings? Why is it today We won't stand up to say That we haven't stopped doing those things? "Old habits die hard" So the saying goes Perhaps that is why There still seems to be Segregation, and no trace of sympathy The little girl smiles She holds out her hand Perhaps it's my chance To make one more stand Caramel and Milk Chocolate and Snow Hand in hand Down the sidewalk we go Singing a song Of forgotten things Singing the song Once spoken by kings.