Ten million feet will stomp the march,
Racing strong to the fortress gates:
And as the hinges crack and fold,
The colorful masses will rise.
If you have been the fortunate few,
Be warned your time will come:
Your vision of a white washed world,
This temporary illusion will only fade.
Our burdens have strengthened us,
As builders of your citadels:
Your cords we've carried,
And now we know the truth.
We are stronger by far,
An unbreakable and beautiful people:
As dreams of freedom grow to rage,
Our children sense what change is coming.
With wealth is born an ignorance toward suffering,
Stealing as it does the last of everything:
Not one thin dime a beggar can retain,
When defamed by the rich for asking.
This myth of merit that you preach,
Staring from beyond the glass above:
Now all at once your truth has died,
For we can finally hear our own voices.
The oppressed will not forget,
Your violence cannot be undone:
Our loved ones were struck while we were caged,
And I for one remember every crease upon your hand.
And so I carry on til when,
My peoples' eyes will douse the road:
And on this day-
As we climb the horizon with the sun,
We will sing the gospel of the coming storm.
