A BLACK PROPHECY

‎I hear from the cold coast a whisper of despair. ‎Forged from the master's whip to impair . ‎In pain, a lonely negro shall entertain the whites in their castle. ‎In the scorch a mother shall bustle. ‎And in bitter taste of the whip a man shall hustle. ‎ ‎I hear a whisper from the warmth belly of the ocean. ‎Forged from the brutal hand of the master's on the ocean. ‎In pain a white for has drown a negro brother oh what a devastation. ‎In dishonourable a woman shall be laid tonight. ‎And in bitter tears a man shall stare with no might. ‎ ‎I hear a voice tonight from the far end of the ocean. ‎It is a black prophecy of Mama's w ooling voice for a revolution. ‎Thwack them, smack them leave the in a wrack. ‎Flee from the men in black and don't look back. ‎Sail back into my warmth blossom, into my pack.