That Road dont come

From the end of the barrel,

Of a gun.

That road dont come

From the 

"Get down"

Before you run.

That road dont come

From the Nigger who lost his name,

To a color.

That road dont come

From a fenced off,

Narrow place assigned to you,

And not me.

So look at the silly walls,

Through dark eyes, in a dark face,

And look at your own body,

And mine,

And with a quiet voice-

SCREAM-

"All these walls opression builds will have to go!"

I look at my beer,

With eyes no longer blind-

And see that our four hands can make

The world that's in our mind.

So lets take time,

And meditate brethren,

The road we've always had,

But are yet to find.