Lyrics

Let me be clear,You loved my brilliance, not my gear.You took my mind but hushed my mouth,My truth dismissed, my name left out.
You loved the march that found its groove,But not the man who made it move.You praised my voice,As long as it stayed a background noise.As long as I built the stage with grace,
But never dared to show my face.I mapped the dream they marched into,While they erased the parts they knewMight cost them votes, offend the press,So they folded me like a protest vest.Yes,I was the mind behind the mic,The one who taught the crowd to strike.
I gave it rhythm, gave it fight,But bore two chains by day and night:One for the melanin in my skin,One for the love they called a sin.A Black man bold will raise alarms,A Black gay man? A walking harm.You feared me not for what I lacked,But for the truth I never packed.
Too Black.Too queer.Too loud to smear.Too unafraid to reappear.You used my work and took my shine,Then left my name out every time.You called me risk, a walking scandal,
While your own pride was hard to handle.Told me to shrink, to wear your mask,That justice had a look, a task.But I was not born to be discreet.I would not rinse or bleach.I didn’t bleed in Selma’s nameTo bleed again from friendly shame.You called me deviant under light,But genius when you feared the fight.
You whispered “Bayard” in the halls,When courage knocked against your walls.But when the headlines came in fast,You vanished me to save your cast.Erased me like a name you dread,Polished justice while I bled.You hid me deep,Like secrets you like to keep.But I wasn’t tragic.I was trained.Not your burden.Not your stain.I wasn’t your footnote,I was the floor.The silent brick beneath your roar.And still, I stayed,not from submission,But because I understood the mission.Freedom is not fed by pride.It’s built by those you push aside.And revolutions, history shows,Are shaped by hands nobody knows.I bit my tongue and bore the burn,Because fire teaches when to turn.I swallowed shame like sacred bread,Not because I hung my head,But because justice takes a kind of grace.that lets you build while out of place.You want the truth? Then let it land:I out-planned your greatest stand.
Out-thought your legends, outpaced your speech,Then watched you silence what I teach.You told me to wait, to know my lane,
To eat the crumbs I baked in pain.But I am not your whisper, still,I am the roar you tried to kill.And now, in books and speeches grand,
You stand on stones I placed by hand.You preach of justice, brave and bold,But speak from bones you’d never hold.