So its like that right?
I mean you speak slave master and I speak slave, but when you die I'm always the one digging your grave
you beat me, belittle me, humiliate
me, but you're nothing without me..
its your restaurant, but I'm the waiter,
the server, the worker, the money maker.
Let's discuss how much I cost,
are you rating me by height, by the shade of the darkness or the way I look lost?
plantations are not my habitat,
you just brought me there!
cause you people chained me!, starved me, raped me on a ship and sold me here..
now I stand here a couple of hundred years later, and sometimes at night I still feel the wind echo like a whip on
my back, I.still.feel.the.ache.of.being.hated.just.because.I.was.black
but if its about light,
then I must mention that stars only shine when they are pressed into darkness, that most love stories are written at night
and don't be fooled cause through it all, pain is the only thing that remains color blind.
