James Cypress III
I Had a Dream (by Malcom X)
James Cypress III
The day’s hot
This is unusual, I thought
The Sun’s setting
This environment feels strange
From afar, I see a woman aching and sweating
Our eyes exchange
I start to walk, thorns scratching my feet
On my bare skin, my body drenched in heat
She seems familiar, I’m wondering, “Did we ever meet?”
I walk to her in curiosity as she approaches me with a furrowed brow
“Why the hell is he out here if his skin’s not as brown?”
I have a lot of questions and I finally speak first, “who are we to each other?”
“There ain’t no we. We not the same color!”
“Those specs and them proper words show that we not the same!”
This woman thinks that I’m some house negro when all I wanted was a name.
I had a dream, I wake up out of anger
Words recurring in my mind, from the mouth of that stranger
Well rested to travel to Selma, I see that there are no other stronger words to teach
The segregation between House and Field Negro, I’ll preach
We came a long way and we still have far to go
We always have to stay attached to our roots as we grow
If I were in that time, I would definitely know
I’m a field negro
James Cypress III
The day’s hot
This is unusual, I thought
The Sun’s setting
This environment feels strange
From afar, I see a woman aching and sweating
Our eyes exchange
I start to walk, thorns scratching my feet
On my bare skin, my body drenched in heat
She seems familiar, I’m wondering, “Did we ever meet?”
I walk to her in curiosity as she approaches me with a furrowed brow
“Why the hell is he out here if his skin’s not as brown?”
I have a lot of questions and I finally speak first, “who are we to each other?”
“There ain’t no we. We not the same color!”
“Those specs and them proper words show that we not the same!”
This woman thinks that I’m some house negro when all I wanted was a name.
I had a dream, I wake up out of anger
Words recurring in my mind, from the mouth of that stranger
Well rested to travel to Selma, I see that there are no other stronger words to teach
The segregation between House and Field Negro, I’ll preach
We came a long way and we still have far to go
We always have to stay attached to our roots as we grow
If I were in that time, I would definitely know
I’m a field negro