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why…and yet i know…
save those who know
the same womb
few sing my praise…
many wish me low
to fill the waiting tomb—
outing me as if a fueled blaze …
how long will i be their prey…
how long will i be slain at will…
why must i fear each and every day…
why must i fear being today’s prized kill…
is it something
that unfortunately i lack…
or just because
i’m young gifted and black…
of this tell-tale theme
the world and i know
‘cause i remain on the scene
you’re being driven insane
finding i’m of amaranthine fame…
you may kill the dreamer
but the dream will not go away
it’s impossible to exterminate her
new black lives are born each and every day…
one thing i know and this i mean—
you can kill the dreamer but not the dream.
