Why Freedom's Stripes Are Red
I don’t need a weatherman to tell me of this cloudy day,
I wasn’t playing against them when they took my rooks away,
I saw the pigeons fly as all the clouds were turned to gray,
And I hear the peoples cry, “We’ve got to make them pay!”
Who covered streets and people with such a dirty snow?
No one takes the blame whichever way we go,
Who has burned our books that we had stacked so tall?
We are now not running, for we can only crawl.
A saw a black man turn white and a white man turn red,
If we are not frightened then why have we fled?
The children were orphaned as their poor fathers leapt,
We mourn much more now than when their fathers wept.
I say all five sides were the wrong sides to strike,
And recall of pasts sins of the kings we don’t like,
But we didn’t bear arms or capture the game,
Out of our sloth march the bloody and lame.
Call up neighbor and brother to make use of your hands,
Don’t strip stars of freedom from all of our lands,
Lower your Glory and save all the dying,
All our heart was poured out in our sorrowful crying.
All they could do then was shed their blood,
All we can do now is give our blood,
All we can do is take more blood with the dead,
Twas the price of our freedom that stained our stripes red.
Mike N Miller
Copyright ©2007 Mike Miller
