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On this field
Is where I was born
And in these fields I will be buried they say

I watch my mom pick cotton 
For the white colony 
Her soft hands turned rough as the gravel road because of the work she has to do for her family
Her hands are so painful she cannot even cook for us
Work is what the call it
But Slavery is what it is

Dear God 

I am tired of seeing my mom feeling pain in every bone of her body
Day by day complaining about the hot sun that burns her and that no one really cares 
All they want to know us how much work she has done only to end up getting paid peanuts while having kids to feed


Dear God 

I know you created these fields but you did not create man to abuse any man in this world you created but still we face this suffering why God? 

On this field is where the white feel privilege to brag through our parents hard work
On these fields is where they get to feel power 

I guess that's Slavery
Watching my mom get beat down each time she tries to rest 
Or gets forced to sing a lousy song about the fields in the hot sun which gradually changes her skin tone 
It's bad but she does it

But now I know the kind of pain slavery comes with and with that I learned to become stronger because even if the try to break us they can't but they can only bend us

On these field is where I was born
In these fields is where I will be laid to rest

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