I stare death in the face gracefully

Over mimosas, cheese crepes and pastries

Caressing life in the small of her back

Smiling, she turns to smile back

Through her foundation of Facts

My hands on her spine

Dividing page after page

I peak into my past and my future

I can read the psalms on the parchment

Gripped by the sweaty palms of a prophet

I can see the chakras and the sutras

My life is clothed in a spiritual cloth

I dice cloves in my ritual broth

I'm as wild as the Scottish Summer Isles

I'm a god, in my African garb

On the white sand beaches of Zanzibar

I am a traveling man

To lands so expansive

Official transcripts of my transit, don't enhance it

I can feel the thread from the loom

On the bed I'm gonna die in

The hospital room I'll re-arrive in... at the resurrection..

A little bread, a lil wine and it’s fine... At the resurrection

Picture me naked, Sacred and Sublime... At the resurrection

I’ve died several times, and now I rise... At the resurrection

A little bread a little wine, and it’s...

I am the joy of an innocent boy

I am the blessed overtones of those double X chromosomes

I'm a critical study, exceptional math

I'm theory and praxis

The intellectual class

I am doubtful, I am hopeful

I am vocal and I am complex

Holy City, Black, local

In a global context

I'm the history and the prophecy,

I'm benevolent

I am heirs' property swallowed up by development

I am depression and expression, I'm water and blood

I am the comfort and the company misery loves

I am the solemn oath and the broken promises

The feelings of desire

The higher consciousness

I am burdened, feeling unworthy, though I am alive

I am feeling lost on a journey, though I have arrived

Needing moments of my own peace

Though I am denied

Every day I cry a little inside, hoping to rise... at the resurrection...

A little bread, a lil wine and it’s fine... At the resurrection

Picture me naked, Sacred and Sublime... At the resurrection

I’ve died several times, and now I rise... At the resurrection

A little bread a little wine, and it’s...

I am the fruitful bud of African native folks

Ushered into bondage for garments

I am the revelatory shine of gold and fine diamonds

Mined from those remote climates

I am the work song

The Blues lick

I am the orphan's improvisational Jazz

I am the drums and the brass

I'm all of the exploited

The boycott and the black dollar

The boy children, the adolescent

The black Father

A broken chain, a vocal refrain

I'm a James Jamerson bass in a Berry Gordy domain

I'm a James Brown tenor shout

Screaming out... holding notes

The pride of my poor, southern Black working folks

I'm a rebel on these chords

I'm a funk brother

Over routine rice cuisine

I am the Gullah words of my grandmother

"Oonah chillun bettuh min'.."

Consequences of decisions when it's time... for the resurrection

A little bread, a lil wine and it’s fine... At the resurrection

Picture me naked, Sacred and Sublime... At the resurrection

I’ve died several times, and now I rise... At the resurrection

A little bread a little wine, and it’s...