Cotton fields of hell in 1826.
Just touch these hairs in the back of my neck
i will see your face and pray you are just the last
next to my bed, here you are reaching out,
stop touching me i am not yours!!
Take your clothes off and come to bed!
don't be so shy you are a good buy,
not as expensive as free voices,
not as cheap as kiss without thick lip,
color is my choice my blindness doesn't know.
Who are you let me touch your wrist
thin or thick i don't care at all who are you,
can i hear your voice just one time,
yes master I'm all yours let this be the lesson,
mute i might be, deaf it is what you are.
This is what the dream is all about,
if you scream i know because i can feel,
go ahead put your hand on my lips,
count the words on by one,
it feels like the first time,
white on black in the cotton fields.
Will anyone be responsible,
who will pay, the scars are too deep,
another 200 hundred years,
maybe than justice will prevail
until then mute it is my best pill.
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