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angela brown – america lyrics

if i die, let it not be in vein. for whom i am, i am not ashamed. for what i’m not, for who is to blame? for praise and glory, i have yet claimed. for all the sins, indebted to my name, for bitter hatred, cries and pain, i made my choice, with sovereign reigns, for my fate deterred, its meaning estranged
my strands of hair become thin and grey and the skin begins to darken like darted fists underneath my eyes and the gentle skin i had as a child becomes wrinkled like a crunched, paper bag and my gums soft holds my t–th with many fillings and loss of memory dissolves in fractures of disturbed imagery from lost dreams and lost ties become a shattered universe of unsorted, ragged premises in untimely sp-ce and health is a means of retaining a sound mind in all the chaos of maintaining order in my life and at 44, i wait for answers that have been long forgotten and i wait for signs, it is what i want to believe in and for those who depend on me is the reason for why i live and old age is when loneliness becomes an inevitable truth to escaping insanity
look not on what you have succ-mbed; yet seek to determine your destiny. know not the tolerance failure brings; but, to measure your ability. listen to emotions softly unfold; to quietly defuse self-hate. inhale love within grasp; for life encounters many mistakes. cherish the need to be loved; for you only have one chance
i tip toe through shattered gl-ss, a broken bottle of a washed dream. wept blood flows through the streets, with another token of apathy. another uncomfortable imposition, left behind a mellow, cold heart. emotions pardon, as my heart cries from the pleasures we never consumed. each moment is too intense to deny, you will never love me. you managed to puncture a wound in my heart, because you control me. a clay, ceramic bowl is broken
i surrender my love to you. an understatement too many sleepless nights. i am the measurement of hard times of matter, from the amount of hours we spent together. i ponder with unending emotion, through concurrent times. many nights i attempted to contemplate suicide, as you watched me, afraid to die in my sleep
i pace, i pace my steps, walking back and walking forth. i stand tall casing four blank walls each step i take in modesty. fidgeting hands, bad nerves, fidgeting, antic-p-ting the voices in my head. silence, i stare at a vacant room. i answer my voice calling, calling, calling afraid of what i think, words trash back at me. i must contain my hands, i place them in my pockets. i realize i am alone, alone, i contain my composure. silence i contemplate a motive trapped in an isolated asylum
navigate the currents, i am intolerant to pain. the current drifts of abuse, by the women i love. empty air could not filter the lashes of the whip that made me suicidal, of the physical abuse. maybe i will wait for the messiah, to tell me i am a strong woman. the jealousy of her pilled the black off my skin. i followed her instruction, for i honored her integrity. the roots of terror stocked my troubled conscience. it was a terrible thing. hoping things could be different. she chose my friends. she chose who i was to marry. it came with the package of child birth. as a turtle, i dragged behind all the garbage that sprang up. i waited the path to finding peace from her verbal abuse saying that i would not amount to nothing. from the voices in my head that i was not worth sh-t as i gazed down and was slapped in the face. remembering the thoughts, i became weak scorned from happiness. she told me i dishonored her. i was to obey her. she owned me. anyone who got close would be doomed for i was not worthy to be their friend. deep in my heart, i knew this experience with my mother; but what would make me a better person or break me. now, a light fl!ckers in the room, to replace the guilt, i’d long forgiven
touched by an angelic figurine, mother’s soul will travel in sp-ce. the intimacy of our relationship is unfounded. the fluid that slithers in water underneath my feet is the energy generated from a mother’s love. it is the love that surp-sses time. my love for her will clasp the sun, while the weight of life measures to exist within the galaxy above. our relationship will always remain with good reason, for she is the pendulum of hope, i aspire
dad’s a shadow, a ghastly spirit, i have yet, come to know. the cold, moist air aroused his temperament, in which he hung his hat, we call home. an authentic office, provided support each etching that made a difference. he fl!cks his fist out of anger, demanding respect, to mark his territory. a guitar picks his last note, a quarter note, a flat note, and a rest note, as he thumbs away into uncertain sp-ce – now silence
my dad has issues, he abandoned death, absent to life. wisely reaching out, longing for rain to touch his tongue. his bitter empty heart, swelters his state of mind. clamping his soul with guilt, under the eve of deception. the moment of remission will harness his fate. for his desire to release affection, remains a matter of substance
give me your hand, let me interpret words of wisdom. guide me to communicate phrases, to develop the freedom of expression. nurture my p-ssion to listen, to remediate music through meter. grant me the ability to interpret the language of humiliation. guide my mind to escape imagination to feel a dream of comp-ssion
in dedication to my brother and all other brothers. it only takes a blank sign to question a kind heart with a one word phrase. a vivid imagination with a quick nod. a mad mind to sear a gentle conversation .a blank stare to act a simple gesture. an eager need for mediation a question is the final query to recognize. my need for love
in dedication to the love of my life. my gift to you is circ-mstance a pondering of psalm i speak with truth and somber thoughts. to dictate essence of songs i speak with grand fertility to have you to myself. i light a candle to give you praise under what faith was built
and with god’s consent the choice is ours to make save the hideous mistakes. from our past, i ask of fate to rancor our innocence

our love was naïve to have thought. we fell in love from the very start. love is not the same there were missing parts a mere misunderstanding we had to part. the deed is done a mere mistake we must learn from loss to know our fate
a diverse group of women who have common interest in learning how to develop the community to become a better place. women in this community questions things they do not understand. women try to change conditions which are detained. women control their fate peacefully. women who want to be considered equal to men and are trapped in a social convention which will not let them free. this community of women embraces conflict to reach their goals to unknown consequences. a human convention is where there is an outside force that controls your life from having absolute freedom. this community determines convictions of opposition by teaching integrity through experience to create a civic awareness to conflicting issues. a leader who leads their life, according to their religious faith. women in this community have a foundation which determines their character by -sserting reason and giving empathy to sensitive issues they confront on the daily basis

i am ashamed of who i am. my past is cursed from slavery. my heart pleads silently afraid. i am soft spoken, i cry somberly. i am confused of who i am. my heart shattered of one thousand times. i am confused of my moral faith. my soul stripped of integrity. my head bowed down to my senses. i burry my burdens before god, to be forgiven
it is a disease when your skin in dark and inferior to other skin. it is when they whisper silently of oppression against you. it is how they degrade you for being poor. it is where they spread rumors you will always regret. it is when the pain in your heart cries every night plotting suicide. it is a feeling where you are neglected for being unacceptable. it is to live your life day to day without expression. it is when you p-ss people nod and greet you. it is when they accept you for who you are. it is when people will support your dreams. it is when people hold good intentions for you. it is when your outlook on life is always positive. it is when people show interest in you. it is to live a blessed day every day. being light skin is a feeling that people care. being light skin to me, means you are loved
when your man has come back from prison, you must beware of him for he is not the same man you knew when he left you pregnant. he is not a whole person. his spirit within him if full of anger. different from the pride he had when he became a father, for he is now full of shame. he is embarr-ssed that he once envied his father for being a man and now he is belittled for being half the man who cannot support his own family. he has guilt within him, for he cheated on you when he stole to support his family. going to prison was a noose, chained him in shackles which enslaved him for ten years for a crime he said he did not comment. “i did nothing to n0body, officer.” for ten years he wore a scar that said, “wh0r-.” he was being marked a demon for the color of his skin was the color of charcoal. “guilty as charged.”
i took away the respect he had as a free man. the prison, he must learn to survive in hostility, a slave to the master guard’s command. branded a number on his uniform. the prison number became his name. he must learn to fight to survive. he had nothing else to live by. when he returned home, he must take the agility of self-hate, to learn to love his family he had lost fate in the prison ward. his wife must learn to cleanse his scar and nurture his soul to return home knowing he is somebody and that his family loves him for that is all that matters. he has come home to a family who accepts him and loves him
in the land i come from, i am free to roam the savanna to hunt. i am able to demonstrate my man hood through rite of p-ssage. today, i wonder about to find something to make a drum. i am captured. i am taken by a rival enemy. i am shackled and chained to the bottom of a ship. for months i travel by sea. extra cargo is thrown overboard. some are sickened from the fetus and vomit. we africans speak different tongues and cannot communicate. i stand on a platform, naked. my skin is branded with a number. the number indicates who owns me. i am sold for less than a penny. i live in a foreign land, called america. i cannot escape harsh treatment. i am beaten with a horse lash. my back holds gasp of blood from the whip. if i fight back, i will be lynched, shot or burned to death. if i fled, i will be branded with an r, a runaway slave. the dogs will find me and rip my body to pieces. i ran away more than once. my punishment left me crippled. my foot was shot off my leg. i miss my family. i watched black women raped by the white man that sickened me. the slave master f-cked her dry. if the women submit, there is a chance their children would be free from slavery. if my master allowed me to learn to read and write, the salt on my tongue is dry. the sole purpose of a slave is to serve. a plantation has no place for a slave to read and write. it is a threat on a plantation to read and write afraid there will be a slave revolt. my spirit is gone. i have no reason to live. my personal freedom is beseeched. i lie awake in my death bed. if i am a good slave, and i do as told, they may grant my freedom. i am a captive of slavery. i am betrayed by demons. i have no life as i speak. for two centuries, a life sentence, i surrender to sin. i rise to pick cotton. i live under the whip. during the revolution, to death, you cannot see what you cannot find. afraid, as a slave, i lie still, on my death bed
it takes a village to raise a child. but how am i raised, without family. my gang is my family. we come from a community of host who protect us from harm. united we stand as family. we live together. we die together. we help our brothers and sisters from destruction. we mark our community from harm’s way. in our community, everyone knows when we go wrong. our community of peers testifies in our behalf. it gives us a second chance from going to prison. the village gives us a chance to lead a moral life. our community of peers supports us, to gain success. we acknowledge our own kind. we are a community of faith, who thrive on faith, making life a better place to live
it was a historic day, the clouds were dark and heavy. it was a day of apothem. blacks were second cl-ss citizens. you read it. the signs said no blacks allowed. blacks were not permitted in public domains. the law read separate; not equal. blacks were to give up their seat for whites to sit at the back of the bus. rosa may have heard the voices in her head, when it served her time to say “no.” ‘not today.’ rosa took a chance that led a revolution to equal rights. the police were waiting for to put her in jail. rosa broke the law. how a country can is free, without just cause? we are not truly free. in the seventies in las vegas, a young boy told his sister that blacks out of respect must sit in the back of the bus. this girl too refused to give up her seat and realizing the just cause is an absolute right
are you ready to rumble? vegas is known for glitz and glitter. you have to be a keen eye to guide you through all the slot machines. you cannot afford to enter a casino without chump change. every patron knows this. a rule of thumb. beware of the noise of coins dropping out of a slot machine. temptation has it. you are deemed to become a victim of placing a few coins every time you enter a casino. today is your lucky day
once you p-ss the slot machine, there are the table games. you will be a sucker for gambling a hand of blackjack. it is a $5 dollar minimum. surely you played 21. it is a sucker bet. the excitement builds at the table. there are people yelling. they won! there are high fives in the game. the c-cktails keep your belly warm. you feel the momentum. you got to have it. luck that is. cha-ching. you are in the money
your luck is running. after you played blackjack, why not play cr-ps? once you look around and see the table is loaded with money, you begin to feel a lucky streak. you place a prop bet and win, you feel like a high roller and so you stay to try the odds at beating the dice
after you wind down from the excitement, you will come across the sports book and it is football season. you sit at the bar and watch the game with the guys on a wide screen television. you know who you are pulling for, because like the lotto, you bet the ticket. it is the next best thing to being at the game. you have something in common at a casino. it is the fun of the game and your team is winning. you have a
winning streak
you are getting hungry and you want to eat, so you got a free ticket to eat with your buddy at the buffet. you had not eaten all day and you pile the food up on your plate; but while waiting, your lotto ticket is in and you wait to hear the winning number
you are tired now that your tommy is full and you want to go home, when you see the poker room is full. you know the game you played with friends in college, only it was strip poker. you have won and you have $500 to k!ll, so you buy in a game of texas hold’em. you have pocket aces and it is the turn with a possible full house. the river card is the determining factor. the board plays one ace and a king. the river plays another king. you played the highest hand. yes! you won the pot. you dedicated a day at the casino, you’re tired and now it is time to go. your pocket change just got fatter. you leave with a big poker face
what a day

- angela brown lyrics

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