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There's an old man talkin |
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To a young boy weepin |
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To an old man shaking his head |
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There's a cool gentle breeze |
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In the night full of light |
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As the red glow wavers in the stead |
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There's a black man crying |
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And a white man dyin |
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And a black man's head in the air |
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The shock of life |
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Feeds the fight |
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The fight that's in my head |
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Holding tight in the stillness of the night |
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In the stillness of my thoughts |
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Yet, i know i've only started |
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Beating on a tin drum marching to a sound |
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What is it i think? |
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Am i beating on a tin drum marching to a cause |
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When i don't know what it is i believe |
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Lonely peeping chick |
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Calling to his mother |
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Runs amuck |
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In a sunken black ditch |
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And wilham's with the widow |
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While martha's in the meadow |
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And the lamb is a layin in sick |
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And the boy in back |
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Is talking some slack |
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To the king of auld lang syne |
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And my heart goes out |
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But i cannot spout what i do not know inside |
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Holding tight in the stillness of my mind |
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In the stillness of my thought |
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Yet, i know i've only started |
