I am the shackles
on the legs of history,
the whip on the skin
the smallpox on the blanket
I am original sin.
I am the bullet
that pierces the quiet night
ignorant, I fly
without rhyme or reason or
sight. I’m humanity’s blight.
I am the shackles
on the legs of history,
the whip on the skin
the smallpox on the blanket
I am original sin.
I am the bullet
that pierces the quiet night
ignorant, I fly
without rhyme or reason or
sight. I’m humanity’s blight.