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Down at the burial grounds,
the stilled tongues of ancestors
no longer scream out
chastising words; yet in the quietness
only nature can give---in the ears
of womb of mind---you can hear
the tinkling of ghost freedom bells:
“Tinkle’ling”---Tinkle’ling.”
“Tinkle’ling”---Tinkle’ling.”
Down at the burial grounds,
in the quietness only nature can give---
in the ears of the womb of mind---you can hear
ghost voices echoing:
“Let freedom ring!”
“Let freedom ring!”
Down at the burial grounds,
in the quietness only nature can give---
in the ears of the womb of mind---you can hear
ancestral ghosts whispering:
“Son, don’t let nobody turn you ‘round!”
“Son, don’t let nobody turn you ‘found!”
Down at the burial grounds,
in the quietness only nature can give---
you can hear---in the womb of mind---ancestral
taunts:
“They don’t give freedom; you got to take it!”
“They don’t give freedom; you got to take it!”
Brethren, in the quietness only nature can give---
in the womb of mind---we need spend more time
echoing ancestral ghost voices---
The children need to hear; that they may know
from whence they came---where they are---
what must be their focus now---as they go
about getting to where they must be: moving
On ahead of you and me.
Then they too, can go down to the burial grounds;
And in the quietness only nature can give---
Hear---in the womb of mind---our ghost whisperings:
“Hold that thought, the revolution is being televised.”
AND
“The truth shall set you free; free your mind and you are.”
