twenty three and we

 

In the ground and stones 

there have been a hundred cities

so why then, do we keep looking

for a home

Over in that place, they speak

of the crimes of the blood

oppression, enslavement,

violation, 

   da da da

those who win are

the ones who whine

in this parlor game we call 

history

it is said that the suffering of 

your people is locked 

into our bones, the crushing

push of the slaver's chain

the terror of annihilation

but nobody talks of the

joy 

of the Bacchanal or the

sacred orgy

of the victorious swell of the heart

standing over the mangled 

bodies of our foes

the evening visit of perfumed 

ladies seeking the sweat and

cock of the gladiator

Some there are who

keep talking about chains and 

the whip

 forgetting that you are also the 

hand that wields it and locks it