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The North Star
The golden seas from whence I came
In the fields of Georgia I was “tamed”
And in those same fields I was maimed
My father was born into bondage
Felt the thrashing of a whip
Until he felt deaths grip
I am shackled and forced to live in chains
My dark skinned frame mangled
My scars inflamed
I’ve felt the lash of a whip upon my back
And felt my life turn to black
I’ve died each day and lived the next
To please a master, to pay my debt
A price put on the tint of my skin
I drudge on beneath the blistering sun
My sole turned to ash
Scattered upon the fields of cotton
My humanity long forgotten
Sun up to sun down
My face eternally set in a deep frown
But my duty not yet done
I slave away till my life is done
The living
I was born into servitude
But I refuse to submit
Even as I suffer at the will of the Whiteman’s whip
Beaten down body and festering sole
I was given this life but I will not play the role
I dream of the liberty, a life beyond my own
I do not except this place as my home
I will rise from the dust of the cotton field
Escape in the night my body concealed
For there is a freeman waiting at the edge of the wood
A specter, a dream, of what could
I will live for the day
I will make my escape
My debt to my owner shall never be paid
As the sun sets over the fields
In the shadows my figure concealed
Running through the wood, my feet beat the ground
Though the wood may be silent freedom resounds
I will serve no man henceforth
My obedience slain
I refuse to let my life be a refrain
Of the song of my people, the song of the enslaved
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