When my soul cries

By Raheem Ballard aka Bernard Ballard (my cousin)

When my soul cries does anyone care if apart of me dies?
Sometimes I wonder if there's anyone willing to stare into these eyes

Shameless they are they stand in a world of their own, what makes it so hard to lend me a hand from your throne?
Maybe I'm too low to reach from that place which you rise
Another peaceful sun sets, and another part of me dies

The blood of my blood, from the loins of "John" we all came
From the mud to the resurrection, will you even remember my name?

Has the blacksheep been plagued in another chapter of the blackbook?
Foreknown by those who grin but despair as they look

Lest I return am I just a burden thats better off less said?
Sojourn with me in this realm of the awaking living dead


Maybe I'm too low to reach from that place which you rise
Is it my face you see in the last generations demise?
Does anyone care if apart of me dies?

Can you fathom the innermost tears of a man when his soul cries?

Written - 11/28/2005

"John" - referred to in the 3rd paragraph was our "great grandfather" who was a slave who married Flora Ann.