You hypnotized us, And used our blood as paint. Art taken from our bodies, Forgetting that my blood is still red.
My body art is across your buildings, Blood used to paint this hypnotizing experience.
The type where you take a whip and hit me, You take a noose and hang me from a tree, But who speaks of it?
You collect the blood of my people in a jar, Connect it with the blood shed on the Mayflower. Connect it with my tears, And the children I lost because you sold them.
You say move forward, But every time we try, Times pushes us further back. We wasted our tears, Because you never saw the good in us. We filled your homes and cleaned them.
You could never do it on your own, We always had to do it for you. Forget the fact that when I cried you pushed me over, Sold me, beat me, and raped me.
I hope you tell the story behind the artwork on your walls. Where that vibrant red came from,
Because me, I wouldn't mind telling the story of that hypnotic graffiti.