Ward Hill

And I am tired of insisting
and pretending that a higher ground
even exists,
when we already broke the cages,
ran for the door;
they didn't even look
our way.
City to city -
it's just communication
for it's own sake,
we'd rather save it
for the big things,
but of course, first
things first - who the hell
are we, anyway?
Capricorns and Sagittariuses
and Jah and mistaken identity
and your father's political machinations
oh the gears they are a-turning
and justice
moving along city to
ceremony hootin' and hollerin'
increasing the frequency and incensed
ired even, white paint and
industrial ash, locomotion,
(come on come on)
it's just migration,
like your grandfathers, plainsmen
the lot, we just want for
everyone.