It was a friend that asked if maybe
We all loved when we were babys,
Could we be from the same thread
But, that might blow our parents heads,
And does that thread weeve us into the same
blanket
The same stars, but, see the question is could
people hack it,
Aren't we all the color red inside
So why do children suffer and cry,
Why do they hunger for the freedom I know
Shouldnt we be on the same boat and just row,
Can't it be that somewhere racism lies dead
But, war subsides over these cries instead,
Why must I be judged, is it not said that, that is one
mans job
But, the freedom to be ourselves and think freely
is robbed,
Why must we worry what tommorow will bring
Why can't we write the song of life and sing,
I want to bask in the sunlight but, I pray
That my brothers and sisters do not stray,
That in this world there is compassion for us to play
and not become something worst or wars only prey,
Will there be a time for the cities made of gold
Will the time come before I grow old,
Will we rejoice together in the praise of space in time
Or will these hopes and dreams eventually die,
Have we given up on this type of unity
Or do we pray for other worlds and other cities,
Do my hopes and those alike have room for reflecion
Or do the highest men hold meetings in deliberation,
Will I be called an anarchist
Or maybe even say im an activist,
Nonetheless I cannot accept everything as true
I have to question every action and every group,
For if we are made of the same thread
Malevolence and it's skin must shed,
So that we can be woven into peace
So that suffering will stop with its disease,
So that the children after us survive us and breath
Breathe the fresh air that comes with harmony,
One day I hope that the generations after us if not we
Survive this madness we live in and be free,
Hopes for my baby brother to get past the norm
Gang violence, teenagers dying even in the suburbs,
And in the meantime I cry hoping this time for him will subside
That he grow to a ripe age and see the change I hoped for inside,
If we are all merely fabric of the same quilt
Then let us knock down the walls that've been built,
Let us be of the same fabric, same thread
For inside we are all the color red..
We all loved when we were babys,
Could we be from the same thread
But, that might blow our parents heads,
And does that thread weeve us into the same
blanket
The same stars, but, see the question is could
people hack it,
Aren't we all the color red inside
So why do children suffer and cry,
Why do they hunger for the freedom I know
Shouldnt we be on the same boat and just row,
Can't it be that somewhere racism lies dead
But, war subsides over these cries instead,
Why must I be judged, is it not said that, that is one
mans job
But, the freedom to be ourselves and think freely
is robbed,
Why must we worry what tommorow will bring
Why can't we write the song of life and sing,
I want to bask in the sunlight but, I pray
That my brothers and sisters do not stray,
That in this world there is compassion for us to play
and not become something worst or wars only prey,
Will there be a time for the cities made of gold
Will the time come before I grow old,
Will we rejoice together in the praise of space in time
Or will these hopes and dreams eventually die,
Have we given up on this type of unity
Or do we pray for other worlds and other cities,
Do my hopes and those alike have room for reflecion
Or do the highest men hold meetings in deliberation,
Will I be called an anarchist
Or maybe even say im an activist,
Nonetheless I cannot accept everything as true
I have to question every action and every group,
For if we are made of the same thread
Malevolence and it's skin must shed,
So that we can be woven into peace
So that suffering will stop with its disease,
So that the children after us survive us and breath
Breathe the fresh air that comes with harmony,
One day I hope that the generations after us if not we
Survive this madness we live in and be free,
Hopes for my baby brother to get past the norm
Gang violence, teenagers dying even in the suburbs,
And in the meantime I cry hoping this time for him will subside
That he grow to a ripe age and see the change I hoped for inside,
If we are all merely fabric of the same quilt
Then let us knock down the walls that've been built,
Let us be of the same fabric, same thread
For inside we are all the color red..
