A jackboot presses down on my windpipe
With all the weight of history
I see the slaves on the sugar plantations
Singing their spirituals
Whipped within an inch of their lives
I see the strange fruit
Swaying in the breeze of a cool Alabama evening
I see Dr King
Speaking to a nation from the Washington steps
I had the same dream
I saw the same mountain tops
I saw bills, laws and statutes
I heard the pretty words
the stories of liberty, fraternity and equality
I saw a man who shares my racial ancestry
Walking and talking with kings on the White House lawn
But as I lie in the gutter
Suffocating, broken and in agony
I
Can't
Breathe
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