Moor Mother - Creation Myth lyrics

The idea is to travel throughout the race riots From 1866 to the present time A (speedy?) decapitation by time (?) in thickness sacrificing love for hate Makin it to the frontline with ease Like how momma made buscuits outta nothing All while having a dope needle in her arm The blueprint provided by a black cemetary No hope for the dead (?) coffins (?) A new type of happiness A black happiness that's filled with grief Somehow ending up at the portal in town (?) nothing else no mind Just the innate wiring of your DNA The process of your chromosomes Systematically forming to prevent ones own annihilation I mean extermination The labour of existence The first time you heard the whisper of d**h That d**h that has always been lingering here With you since the day you were born Heard it telling you that you must be both dead and alive Want us to be dead when a man wants to beat us When they want to rape us Dead when the (?) Alive when the (?) Alive when it's time to be in they kitchen When it's time to push out they babies I've been bleeding since 1866 Dragged my bloody self to 1919 And bled through the summer being slaughtered by whites A flux of chaos came after Influx of terror from German and Irish immigrants American imperialists wasted no time joining mobs and riots Even the descendents of the (?) Still look at knives clean from the trail of tears Joined in the slaughter in (?) All because I was feeling an emotion: fear And by the time I got the whites I was missing most of my limbs Still had enough blood in my throat left to gargle (?) nine words I resist to being both the survivor and victim But I know the reality And some of us did just die under a boot Under pounding fists in the back of a car Others died (?) mangled guts Some of us did just die while giving birth While protesting for the freedom of our sons And only God knows how I made it to Ferguson Aisha didn't make (?) didn't make it Ayanna Yvette didn't make it Pearly didn't make it Chantelle, Tarnika (?), Taisha didn't make it Katherine, Gaberella, Miriam, Charise didn't make it Charnel didn't make it Sandra didn't make it And I was sure I was dead in Oakland After being chained by a pickup truck And dragged miles in Jasper, Texas Where 81 pieces of me my body was scattered across a back road The men drop me off at a black cemetary See that's how I got over How I got over here The same place I was in in 1866 A bleeding black body blowing in the wind Trapping an ironic thickness of things never changing Time is a balancing act that encompa**es all thing Suspended in illusion