Lyrical licks that lament the whips that tips the slaveholder that his chains don't hold the gold that sold out the captives, making them proactive to freeing them from the tree and be free, or is it just me? The man turned over the hours of sand in the glass as fragile as time rhymed with their fate. Checkmate. Or so he thought, but the other He with the capital Y aka G sent his only begotten son to be that sun to mankind so they don't deprive the striving moments that comment on why the ended up in bondage in the first place, second to the chains, with the three being a trinity, inspiration with transformation through the gospel with benediction comes sacrifice but glory is attained by the name. Amen. And we are free. I am free to be me. But the me that He wanted me to be.