If the streets could scream we would hear them say

Our history bleeds and reveals the world at play

The little children running in fear

With adults yelling in their ears

"You were born the wicked race"

Racing away from the hate

Discrimination seemed to take its place.

 

On the streets that were loud, shaken and bruised

We'll never know the truths

In the streets of Montgomery we never really knew

What stories lie with the swinging bodies

Never touching the ground as they hang

Droplets of blood falling from their face

Words left their lungs as cries

But words left their hears as psalms and goodbyes

The people looked with no dire need...

but their history has left a dent in the crisis

and their hearts have been left to rest.

 

The bricks that have watched it all

Tortured people cling on so they don't fall

Knowing that their purity has come to rot

Like the skin on their bodies which fall hard,

Beaten with rock, burned alive, stays fresh

not only were these victims innocent

But were their prosecutors heartless?

Or unless

They knew what they did wrong and confessed

"That was their way of living", they said. 

But it doesn't justify the aggression and craze,

TWO CENTURIES of feared freed slaves

Freed slaves would be treated the best

If their lives would not be killed for "stealing"

A white woman's breath.