1865

1865 - still alive. Still alive. 1865 - Still alive, still alive. Did you know you could fly to the
tippyest-tip-tip-tip-top of the sky, and not be afraid to die…on your knees screaming,

“God, please. God, please.” You don’t know you. No new you. This you. The one sucka-punched on a hunch by a wizard, at a carnival. Who convinced this you to decide to side with the side that decides nothing. Absolutely nothing. Truth BE dared. 1865 – still alive.

Still alive. 1865 –still alive. Still alive. You don’t know you get a say to say HEY! Any day on your way to keep it movin’. As you bounce from the beat of brothahood to the
belief that bitches who bitch beyond the boundaries of balance, bare the brunt of the
babies who burn and bleed bundled in a bag of chaos. Fever! – not fated from the outset.

Born in you don’t know you a real threat. Angry nigga. Happy soul. Free spirit always
the goal. Surrounded by the sounds, and the rhythms, and the isms, of love and light, and
laughs, and louds, and smiles, and spirit, and speakers, and seekers…and shakers, and
fakers, and shuckers, and jivers, and bibles, and baggage, and bills! And before you know
you don’t know you fly in the sky. Not identify by the eye. It’s the power and the glory of
you. 1865 – still alive. Still alive. 1865 – still alive. Still alive…this slavery of the mind,
that’s so unkind, to the soul. To the soul. Do you know?