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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Freedom before my lost brother They march before the rising sun with guns at six We stand before sun down with signs of freedom Who really marches to the same drum? When my hand have been blown off for beat The beat, the beat, the beat As he races from the explosion of freedom in his chest For freedom To escape this tide of hate That swept us slaves of red, white and blue And he is nothing like before when hate took him away He is a man at six and we are still children as adult War took my hands and feet I am no solider I fight for freedom not money You fight so this tide will not cross-oceans and sands We fight here for food and light And light, to breathe, to die for family Across the ocean hand my son an ak-47 And he will march and kneel before God for forgiveness Hand my brother a ruger and he will stand in the shadows for American greed Greed in the land of freedom and hope, black in the shadows And mother can mend wounds here across the oceans she can only dial Extensions..... Of relief Mother over there must know how to be doctor and surgeon, and warrior for the Next Generation to survive, to live We cannot procreate; we are the ends of mankind With bombs in the hands of babies To extend our left hand of hate across the ocean, across towers of hope We must all be the same here a million mile from each other My skin dictates that I hate, be hated, I rape, be raped I bleed red, white and blue Watching in shock, disbelief as red, white and blue goes up in flames in the Ashes of the wind just like you Freedom can never come to me here before her with that torch My mother across the ocean must be sending me a package of death to kill my four father Your four father because my complexion means that no one can see me I am a lost brother, forgotten sister Hated child with no hands, no hands in freedom March me before television cameras, signs of peace, and words of love I am still a lost brother............ before truth But you knoe me so well.. From the the same box that caused my cousins in your land to be hung Money means nothing here, Money means every thing beside her with the torch Pass it to me so I may freedom---the truth
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