Onward my child to racism

Form up the children fresh youthful battle lines
along those ivory towered walls
no matter they know not of what they march
the activist master calls

Pass along that pamphlet the next person in front
the banner the credo the cause
be the good uniformed little marcher
move on without pause

The resurrection of racism awaits you
rattle those ghostly chains
after all why think for yourself
it is I forming those youthful brains

Don't you hear the ghosts that cry or listen of
the memories of the old
No matter that I was not the owner
nor you the slave I sold

What curse is it that I will never forget
or we never heal from within
Why a curse at all but forgiveness
what kind of curse is this sin

Just who is served by the ghosts in the cellar
the blood once dried to dust
I remember all and you will never forget
and in between dies the trust

What have YOU taught the children now
hatred is a sin that can't be returned
No master like the one that awaits us up there
nor a slave as WE unlearned






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