Do you not think my hands hurt?
The shackles that lay upon my wrist
As I bear the pain and you gain the profits
As I weep and I cry and you smile and shout
As I am the one who is forced to comply.
I am filled with sorrow
But yet not with hate
I keep my head up and my shoulders straight
Yet why are you the one filled with all this hate?
You prance and you dance
You brag and you talk
You force me to take the burden of your work
But does my freedom mean your defeat?
Does my confidence mean your dignity?
I am myself
And I am my own
You have turned red in the face
Your happiness now anger
You have made me scared and frail
Dainty and meek
I now have tears streaming down my cheeks
I know that you want me to be weak.
The legacy of slavery, so forth so gone
Why would such things like this continue to go on?
I am hopeful, strong, and prosperous
And I know when I reach freedom
I will sing the song of justice and peace.
