#AmericanWriters
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
Let’s go see Old Abe Sitting in the marble and the moon… Sitting lonely in the marble and t… Quiet for ten thousand centuries,… Quiet for a million, million years…
When Susanna Jones wears red her face is like an ancient cameo Turned brown by the ages. Come with a blast of trumphets, J… When Susanna Jones wears red
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves