helena
Newbie
Posts: 21
Roots
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« on: September 27, 2005, 04:56:05 PM » |
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This is what's real to me,
sittin' under the branches,
of a great ole tree.
Grass stained with the sun's last rays,
and the sky shining with golden last sparkle.
This is what's real to me.
Not politician talk,
or money trickery.
Nor freedom wrapped in chains,
or to particiapte in Babylon mystery.
This is what's real to me,
belly full from earth's bounty.
Soaring free,
beyond fears gravity.
Life eye shine,
refuse the vinegar not the wine.
This is what's real to me.
Sometimes I don't want to live,
neither to die.
I am perverse, good and evil,
but I don't want the lie.
My mind at times disconnected,
from the heart.
Was it so, in our unholy abandon of Jah,
where evil, through complacency, did start?
This is what's real to me.
Sky now burnt orange, color set free,
a painters palette looks down pon me.
Feel the love,
not only the pain.
See the rainbow,
through the rain.
Jah is what's real to me.
Jah live!
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