 Some say the revolution begins here In the quiet depths of despair Where your black looks more like the back of a mask than the eternity of the night sky. This is a civilized call to action The revolution Begins here Listening to brick music falling from project windows sudden realization that America's music sounds like you looks like you is you You are not what you think you are You are pride and stride you are a singing heart. You are that blues song 150 years long This melody from memory makes harmonies that reach to be so much more than a simple tune or rhyme darling Your song sets flame to the soul. You will not be ignored This is not a civilized call to action There is nothing calm about the fact that your beat makes the wall shake Makes the ceilings rain down makes heartstrings quiver and the whole world turns around black sons and daughters You are what the world will see when it takes its last breath You are the after-image of everything You will exhaust yourself trying to tame the beauty in you. So this is not a civilized call to action You are not powerless Because your heart and history are so stormy I have never seen a stormy heart that was not bursting with thunder and Miracles and yes sometimes despair makes the stoop shutter Sometimes there are endless depths of pain singing a cappella on the street corners Sometimes it got to be that way But you remember Though your name may be Icarus your wings are not a feather and wax You can get as close to the Sun as you want to And when you look in the mirror, I hope you see them Harlem bones 364 years long you are an avalanche You were made to wipe this mountain clean some say the revolution Begins here The revolution begins at the back of your throat You have a song Sing