Marcus

Down south...way down south You can hear my soul, whistling with the glazed wind. Down south...way down south You can witness my bitter tears, navigating through the miserable rivers. Down south...way down south You can still retrieve the stench of my decayed flesh, that was whipped off with elegant lashes of hatred. Down south...yonder der south You can hear the dreary voices of my brothers and sister's, chanting the hope for freedom in the form of Ebonics... saying! "Freedom bees on itz way, freedom is mawchin da highlands, flowin wit da rivas of sorrow, freedom is coming I know! Just wait for tomorrow." Down soul south my father's scream's still echo the fields... way down south, the chains meant to bond my spirit still lies, the rope that held my grandfather by the throat still hangs from the tree of lives forsaken. Way down south... is where my African ancestors were taken. -MarcRed