Places can’t forget their past
Can we somehow be thankful
For a whisper at every turned corner
Of the slave sold
Of the child starved
Of the culture smothered
Thankful so that we can’t forget to scream
As it happens again?
Places can’t forget their past
Can we somehow be thankful
For a whisper at every turned corner
Of the slave sold
Of the child starved
Of the culture smothered
Thankful so that we can’t forget to scream
As it happens again?
