Bland Brown Rice by Paul.itiCs Lyrics
[Tim Victor:]
I was born by the river
In a little tent,
And just like the river I've been running
Ever since.
It's been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come,
Oh yes it will.
It's been too hard living,
But I'm afraid to die,
Cause I don't know what's up there
Beyond the sky.
It's been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come,
Oh yes it will.
[paul.itiCs:]
Tonight, somewhere in these United states.
As the first sirens sing their song,
the skies will cry grey tears, for what's to come.
When the white smoke subsides,
left behind will be a brown cadaver face-down dipped in a red pool of plasma.
And the next set of sirens you'll hear,
will be ones that sing their ceremonial song, for one last ride.
Another brown skin bites the dust,
forced to kiss & return to ashes,
by the brave that flaunt their metallic badges.
Now souls disperse into thin air,
faster than their tongue could poise the question "what for?"
Faster than.THE bullet that races & anchors black bodies to the ground,
in the ocean of their own blood,
by means of probable cause.
So tell me,
What's the price for a (black man’s life) royal priesthood anyways?
Check Sean's tag, maybe its the 50 white stars,
or better yet tell me is it the 13 stripes & lashes,
dipped in red blood - molded to the 50 bullet wounds,
carved into the back of a young black man,
causing him to adieu, before he said "I do.”
There were no wedding Bells,
instead there were flying bullets that rang,
leading Sean Bell to Exchange vows with the grave,
before he could ever walk in holy matrimony.
Or tell me what's the price of a (black woman’s life) chosen generation?
How routine traffic stops,
somehow leads to dead ends of women with so much future,
at the hands of those supposed to protect and to serve.
America the Beautiful,
But the Brown - Rice - this “Holy nation" has been cheffing,
has left this melting pot tasting so - Bland.
Oh taste & see
That our cousins in faith,
Still apathetically neglect us.
Their Vision, is selective.
They never see color,
Blinded by the truth, they refuse to accept.
They claim they love us,
but their theology-in-action says otherwise.
They might not be like their brothers,
But their silence speaks more volumes.
How can Christ-like beings be absent in the presence of oppression.
Yet be present in oppressing the outcasts.
More pro-birth, than actually protecting the sanctity of each life.
The want us Kings to hope, and dream of a brighter future,
As if the last King that ever dreamt, ever woke up from his.
Seasons have changed,
But history only became current events.
There's still blood on these leaves,
Hate still exists,
and love appears to have ceased.
Yet change is all that we hold on to
So in darkness,
we serve as bearers of light.
Like branches sprouting from deep roots.
We are grounded in good soil.
We are guided by a dream.
Dream of the promised land that awaits us.
Land of Promise,
our mortal bodies won’t see.
but where fickle gospel will bow - to the King of Truth.
The King,
Who sees black & white as humans.
Such King,
Who longs for the day that his children;
both Jews & Gentiles will be able to sit together in His Kingdom,
& not judge each other by the color of their skin,
but embrace each other with the Love shed on Calvary.
The love that supplements for hatred.
& recognizes that Racism is only a symptom of sin.
such love that might not be manifested here on earth.
But in due time will remove the veil from our eyes.
I was born by the river
In a little tent,
And just like the river I've been running
Ever since.
It's been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come,
Oh yes it will.
It's been too hard living,
But I'm afraid to die,
Cause I don't know what's up there
Beyond the sky.
It's been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come,
Oh yes it will.
[paul.itiCs:]
Tonight, somewhere in these United states.
As the first sirens sing their song,
the skies will cry grey tears, for what's to come.
When the white smoke subsides,
left behind will be a brown cadaver face-down dipped in a red pool of plasma.
And the next set of sirens you'll hear,
will be ones that sing their ceremonial song, for one last ride.
Another brown skin bites the dust,
forced to kiss & return to ashes,
by the brave that flaunt their metallic badges.
Now souls disperse into thin air,
faster than their tongue could poise the question "what for?"
Faster than.THE bullet that races & anchors black bodies to the ground,
in the ocean of their own blood,
by means of probable cause.
So tell me,
What's the price for a (black man’s life) royal priesthood anyways?
Check Sean's tag, maybe its the 50 white stars,
or better yet tell me is it the 13 stripes & lashes,
dipped in red blood - molded to the 50 bullet wounds,
carved into the back of a young black man,
causing him to adieu, before he said "I do.”
There were no wedding Bells,
instead there were flying bullets that rang,
leading Sean Bell to Exchange vows with the grave,
before he could ever walk in holy matrimony.
Or tell me what's the price of a (black woman’s life) chosen generation?
How routine traffic stops,
somehow leads to dead ends of women with so much future,
at the hands of those supposed to protect and to serve.
America the Beautiful,
But the Brown - Rice - this “Holy nation" has been cheffing,
has left this melting pot tasting so - Bland.
Oh taste & see
That our cousins in faith,
Still apathetically neglect us.
Their Vision, is selective.
They never see color,
Blinded by the truth, they refuse to accept.
They claim they love us,
but their theology-in-action says otherwise.
They might not be like their brothers,
But their silence speaks more volumes.
How can Christ-like beings be absent in the presence of oppression.
Yet be present in oppressing the outcasts.
More pro-birth, than actually protecting the sanctity of each life.
The want us Kings to hope, and dream of a brighter future,
As if the last King that ever dreamt, ever woke up from his.
Seasons have changed,
But history only became current events.
There's still blood on these leaves,
Hate still exists,
and love appears to have ceased.
Yet change is all that we hold on to
So in darkness,
we serve as bearers of light.
Like branches sprouting from deep roots.
We are grounded in good soil.
We are guided by a dream.
Dream of the promised land that awaits us.
Land of Promise,
our mortal bodies won’t see.
but where fickle gospel will bow - to the King of Truth.
The King,
Who sees black & white as humans.
Such King,
Who longs for the day that his children;
both Jews & Gentiles will be able to sit together in His Kingdom,
& not judge each other by the color of their skin,
but embrace each other with the Love shed on Calvary.
The love that supplements for hatred.
& recognizes that Racism is only a symptom of sin.
such love that might not be manifested here on earth.
But in due time will remove the veil from our eyes.