What does it mean to be free from these prison walls?
And what is the cost of separating myself from you?
And is this privilege an illusion, created by the masterminds of resistance to change
And if I was born to believe I was special, was I really just locked in a special cage
And who really has the sickness
Could this be what I have been avoiding all along
And how come I can’t remember where it is, that I come from?
Wooahhh
How can we build this bridge over historical severance of centuries old
If this struggle is not my own, I outta hear the stories I’d never been told
If this struggle is not my own, I outta look at what I own
If this struggle is not my own, then this land is not my home
Woaahhh
(Spoken Word)
Open up and read the pages, of our human family book
Slavery and massacre, its hard to take a look
The war began, we don’t know why
But it just keeps going, an eye for an eye
It’s in our blood it’s in our bones, it broils and it brews
Yet something like love is born in every baby new
The war lives on if we live in denial
The pain’s inside if we don’t grieve and reconcile
There are ways, we’ve seen it done before
Like South Africa after apartheid pain was heard and not ignored
Honesty, forgiveness, we all want to heal
And especially me, white folks, we have to keep it real
What’s come before, it’s not my fault
But do I uphold this whiteness cult?
I reclaim my power, by knowing my culture
And not by stealing other’s spirits like a vulture
I am like a swan, a graceful bird in white
I am equally the raven weaving spells through the night
Let’s talk about it: race, and the shame I feel in my face
The time I left my friend in the dust so I could win the race
This is not a fairytale, this is not a ritual
This is a worldwide illusion being brought to its funeral
There is no human with more or less worth
Like no grain of sand that deserves less to be on this Earth
And I’m sorry for all of the hurt I’ve caused
And I swear on the graves of my ancestors I will work to see it undone
How can we build this bridge over historical severance of centuries old
If this struggle is not my own, I outta hear the stories I’d never been told
If this struggle is not my own, I outta look at what I own
If this struggle is not my own, then this land is not my home
I love this artist, she is daring, gorgeous, deep, fierce "witch-pop". This music is so cathartic for me. I love to work out and run through the forest listening to ANIIML Jen Myzel