The River

[Intro: Sample]
It is that task which I ask you to permit me to assay tonight
And to approach it from the point of view of what we usually call "the negro problem"
All so-called social problems tend to merge, they all have to do with human actions

[Verse: Skech 185]
I would've been a server at Idlewild
Refilling glasses as my race's credit chatter
Matter of factly speaking boot-strap folklore
Glancing at me from time to time
Yet your chauffeur has a green book
Businessmen were the first lynched
This is America
With it's hunger pangs and over piled plates
Great America
For what it's worth, take a path, see the land
Learn the town, seeds to plant
Save America
Make America
Whole novels of nothing
Roads of offal to guide us
There's a war going on outside
You were born with your uniform and units, lawful
So here I am travelling the land in overthought movements
Speaking in the terese manner of my forefathers
There's somethin' in the water
Screams, sins, sons and daughters
Please give me my marching orders
Do I have to wade through it?
The splashes sound like slave music
The moon's acting like a conductor
The wind whispers "stay away"
The ripples look like a path
The river reads like a trap
There are children stuck in the marsh
And they won't give me their hands
They're too scared of the land
They said "don't take us back
That prison has stars attached," I'm panicking
Worried about them drowning
Fighting to understand
"But the river! But the river!" Ignored
Breathing between tides, I'm floored
Seeing it as a lie
Does anyone else notice?
My shadow must be obstructed
Plus the darkness blurs the focus
It must seem like I'm talking to myself
How long can I be talking to myself?
Talk, lost in time locked in a loop
But I'm supposed to protect the youth
What do I lose if I leave them?
What do they lose if they leave this?
Clean clothes and some half-truths to believe in
Scorched earth daily battles with only sweat to feed 'em
I walk back uphill in silence
Crying, feeling like they already found their freedom
Who am I to pick what they fight for? They're refugees in our time
You have to pass a lot of bloody leaves to reach that shore
You have to survive a lot of ugly things to be that sure
When asked what the screaming was for, I replied I stepped in shit
The march continued as it always does
Through the towns, the venues, the theaters, and clubs
Forever westward as God intended