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Who covets more is evermore a slave.

quote by Robert Herrick
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Amusing Trial, in Which a Yankee Lawyer Rendered a Just Verdict.

A Slave sold at Auction.
A time there was, when no one thought
It sin, to hold a slave he'd bought,
And of his strength have the command,
As much as of his house and land.
A Yankee Lawyer long had kept
A negro-man with whom he slept.

And ate, and Sabbath day,
He half the time from church would stay;
When Cuff his master's garments wore.—
'Twas strange you say, but he was poor;
And though he cared not for Cuff's soul,
Yet such the times, that on the whole,

'Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, slavery, thou art a bitter draught.'—Sterne.
His slave must to the meeting go,
If 'twas for nothing but a show.
They lived on thus for several years—
One would not think, that many tears
Would fall from off that shining face,
So sleek and smooth, or he would trace

Note.—In some parts of the country, slaves are scantily fed, while their masters live in luxury.
Note.—In some parts of the country, slaves are scantily fed, while their masters live in luxury.
The chain which bound, or wish to break,
But choose to stay for his own sake,
Where he so well was clothed and fed,
And shared the lawyer's food and bed,
So well contented he might be,
He'd hardly know but he was free,

Fetters formerly used by the slave traders, to confine the ankles of their victims. The editor has seen some that were actually used by Rhode Island traders.
Fetters formerly used by the slave traders, to confine the ankles of their victims. The editor has seen some that were actually used by Rhode Island traders.
But make the fetters of pure gold.
They're hateful still, they gall, they hold,
And if the pill is sugared o'er,
'Tis still as bitter as before.
Cuff ponder'd much, but did not know,
If he his master left to go,

And seek his fortune, he could find
Another master half so kind,
And who would give so large a share
Of the small pittance he could spare,
And every privilege could grant,
Which he could need or ever want;

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The New Inner-City Slave Plantation

The now-a-day slave or labor force
The ruling-class determines the course
The political master’s pastor contorts
Politics and policy aborts

The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation

Work like a blind jackass
Support and finance the ruling class
Being bi-partisan-just a mask
Cultured career criminals civilizing crass

The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation

The political engineers of The Greater Good own
The inner city war-zone
The psychotropic drug sets the tone
Slavery as the new world order is the throne

The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation

Multi-tasking a labor saving device
Freedom of movement has no right
Monopolized government enslaved all might
The inner city slave- plantation private and prime
Real estate blight

The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation

The thirteenth amendment of the constitution
On the inner city slave-plantation no social, no economical,
No educational, no political absolution

On the inner city slave-plantation, indentured servants,
Chattel slaves, still considered Black Gold
By the God Fearing slave codes used to control

The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation

On the new inner city slave-plantation
The American Flag can not wave
Even Democracy is revered as a Black Slave

poem by Josephine DixonBanks
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Not My Slave

With sadness in my heart and joy in my mind
I thought about the ghost that we left behind.
With everyone around telling us what to do
With deafening sound whisper I love you.
The fire in your eyes-- may it never go out.
The sweetness of your tears make it feel like night.
I see no escape from the roles we always play
What do we have to prove on this judgement day
Youre missing the whole point-- youre not my little pet
Dont throw away your life-- the games not over yet
I do not own your soul--dont want you in a cage
I only want your heart to find a special place
Youre mine now but youre not my sister
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine but youre not my child
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
With sadness in my heart and clounds in my head
I thought about us both and the lives we led.
The pages on a book and pictures on a screen
We shape ourselves like clay from someone elses dream.
One second you are cast just like stones at my feet
But I am not a king please dont worship me.
With everyone around telling us what to do
With deafening sound whisper I love you.
Youre missing the whole point-- youre not my little pet
Dont throw away your life-- the games not over yet
I do not own your soul--dont want you in a cage
I only want your heart to find a special place
Youre mine now but youre not my sister
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine but youre not my child
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine but youre not my sister
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine but youre not my child
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine now but youre not my slave

song performed by Oingo Boingo
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Slave 2 The System

Slave) {repeat in song}
Slave, yeah {x2}
Slave 2 the system here before I was born
Slave 2 the master, workin' me till I'm worn
The only penthouse I can count on's a big black ball and chain
Slave 2 the system, the future's all arranged
Oh, U better fetch that water, boy {x2}
Slave 2 the system
Thompson's my last name, but my daddy's name is Lloyd
The farther back I trace it, the more it becomes null and void
All my life I've struggled just 2 be called a boy
Slave 2 the system, oh what a joy
Oh, U better fetch that water, boy
Hell if I do!
(Oh, U better fetch that water, boy)
Oh, I'm just a slave 2 the system
Here before I was born
Slave 2 the master, workin' me till I'm worn
Slave 2 the system

song performed by Prince
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Slave Nation

my allegation
its alright
slave nation
alright
want to tell ya
all is gone
you're a slave nation
right or wrong
tell
oh
take a moment to tell
oh
slave nation
its alright
you're a slave nation
oh my
its cool
its fine
slave nation
alright
tell
tell
tell me not to tell
wanna tell
slave nation
slave nation
slave nation
slave nation
its alright
isolation
right
oh?
its alright
its alright
its alright
Back to Simple Lyrics & Desktop Wallpapers
Back Home

song performed by Simple Minds
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Rebekkah

When Abraham was weak and old
he forced his slave to swear an oath,
while grasping of his member hold:
“Make sure that Isaac plights his troth
to someone from my ancient clan;
from Canaanites don’t choose a damsel;
in Canaan I believe each man
to be a mamzer, girl a mamzelle.”
Everybody knows a mamzer
is repulsive to the Jews,
a cockroach rather than Greg Samsa,
but mamzelle is a word I choose
instead of mademoiselle, for rhyming;
a lot of members of my tribe
like them a lot when they’re good-timing,
though outlawed by the Bible scribe.

The slave asked God to make it clear,
by giving him a secret sign:
“The first young girl who will appear
and bring me water, not cool wine,
should be for Isaac lifelong mate.”
She came, of Bethuel the daughter,
and didn’t cause the slave to wait
until she brought him ice-cold water.
A prompt response, what he’d been urgin’,
occurred at once, and what is more
she was what he had asked for, virgin,
a miracle, I’d say, encore.
Some water for the camels, too,
she brought, precisely as he’d bid,
although she clearly never knew
it was God’s will, because He hid,
as later He would hide when Ruth
by Boaz was allowed to glean.
His hidden will reveals the truth
like daylight coming through a screen,
a scrim that only may be lifted
by those who’re spiritually gifted.

I ought to mention here a point.
Though Canaanite, the slaveman thought
that Abraham might yet appoint
him as his heir, and therefore sought
to lie with that young girl, he knew
he ought to bring back to his lord
for Isaac as a virgin. Clue
for this interpretation find
in language that describes him as
a man, a word that should remind

[...] Read more

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Jones The Rhythm

Rhythm is both the songs manical and its demoinc charge.
It is the original breath , it is the whisper of unremitting demand.
What do you still want to be said of the singer?
What do you think you can still draw from my lips?
Exact presence that no fantasy can represent.
Purveyor of the old secret, alive with the blood that boils again,
And is pulsing where the rhythm is torn apart.
How your singers blood is incensed at the depth of sound.
Lacerations echo in the mouths open erotic sky where dance together,
The lost trenches of rythm and an imploring immobility...
Ladies and gentlemen...miss grace jones...jones the rhythm.
Slave!!
Slave to the rhythm, dance to the rhythm,
Axe to wood in ancient times, man machine production line,
The fire burns, with heart beats strong,
Sing out loud, the chaing gang song.
Never stop the action, keep it up, keep it up,
Never stop the action, keep it up, keep it up.
Slave to the rhythm, dance to the rhythm,
The rhythm...master...master.
Never stop the action, keep it up,
Never stop the action, keep it up, keep it up.
Slave to the rhythm, work to the rhythm,
Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm.
Slave to the rhythm,
Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm,
Slave to the rhythm, work...to the rhythm,
To the rhythm, work to the rhythm, to the rhythm.
Slave, slave,
To the rhythm, to the rhythm, to the rhythm.
*grace: oh thats weird [laughs].*
*interviewer: grace jones, welcome.*
*grace: thank you paul [laughs], if youre wondering whats wrong with my voice I just choked on my saliva...so...[laughs].*
*interviewer: now obviously, youre in the bond movie...*

song performed by Grace Jones
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Slave To Love

You're the hunter, I'm the game
Since we met, I'm not the same
The hunger in you can't be satisfied
You had a secret strategy
To take control and capture me
I lost my will and now I'm paralyzed
We made a slave to love
That's what I'll always be
A victim of your touch
You stole my soul and now I'm just a slave to love, yeah
It took one night at your hotel
To fall from grace into your spell
I can't believe you brought me to my knees
You kiss me once and love me twice
I'm on your mental sacrifice
Your target's touch was hot and aim to please
We made a slave to love
That's what I'll always be
A victim of your touch
You stole my soul and now I'm just a slave to love
Oh, I'm being used
Been held hostage for so long
Is this a one way love affair
Really wrong
We made a slave to love
That's what I'll always be
A victim of your touch
You stole my soul and now I'm just a slave to love
Just a slave to love
Just a slave to love
A victim of your touch

song performed by Quiet Riot
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Rescue The Slave

This song was composed while George Latimer, the fugitive slave, was
confined in Leverett Street Jail, Boston, expecting to be carried back
to Virginia by James B. Gray, his claimant.

Sadly the fugitive weeps in his cell,
Listen awhile to the story we tell;
Listen ye gentle ones, listen ye brave,
Lady fair! Lady fair! weep for the slave.

Praying for liberty, dearer than life,
Torn from his little one, torn from his wife,
Flying from slavery, hear him and save,
Christian men! Christian men! help the poor slave.

Think of his agony, feel for his pain,
Should his hard master e'er hold him again;
Spirit of liberty, rise from your grave,
Make him free, make him free, rescue the slave.

Freely the slave master goes where he will;
Freemen, stand ready, his wishes to fulfil,
Helping the tyrant, or honest or knave,
Thinking not, caring not, for the poor slave.

Talk not of liberty, liberty is dead;
See the slave master's whip over our head;
Stooping beneath it, we ask what he craves,
Boston boys! Boston boys! catch me my slaves.

Freemen, arouse ye, before it's too late;
Slavery is knocking, at every gate,
Make good the promise, your early days gave,
Boston boys! Boston boys! rescue the slave.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Bride of Abydos

"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted." — Burns

TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD HOLLAND,
THIS TALE IS INSCRIBED,
WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF REGARD AND RESPECT,
BY HIS GRATEFULLY OBLIGED AND SINCERE FRIEND,

BYRON.

THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS

CANTO THE FIRST.

I.

Know ye the land where cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom; [1]
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the Sun —
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? [2]
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

II.

Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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The Corsair

'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!'

II.
Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while:
Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song!
In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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My Other Self

I am your slave, desire,
I am your slave, pride,
I am your slave, vice,
I am your slave, success.

Get rid of desire, desire said,
Get rid of pride, pride said,
Get rid of vices, honor said,
Get rid of competition, success said.

I will still be the slave of sin,
The slave of matter,
The slave of love,
The slave of myself.

Get rid of sin and lust,
Of matter and love,
And you will get rid of yourself,
Said my other self.

Are you proposing suicide, sadly said myself?
No, I would never do that, said my other self.
Then, what are you trying to say?
Just be yourself.

poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Slave

(carly simon/jacob brackman)
Listening for your footsteps
Just waiting like a fool
Burning with a fever
Only you can cool
The clock beside my pillow
Has ticked away the night
Like a heartbeat mocking me
Until the light
Gotta stop these thoughts about you
Gotta learn to live without you
Gotta find some freedom for this weary slave
cause Im hungry for you
And Im longing for you
And Im burning for you
I worship your opinions
I imitate your ways
I try to make you grace me
With a word of praise
However much I tell myself
That Im strong and free and brave
Im just another woman
Raised to be a slave
Slave, nothing but a slave
Mind of a slave
Body of a slave
I find I gave away the soul
That I wanted you to save
Im just another woman
Raised to be a slave
Hungry for you
And longing for you
Burning for you
And Im longing for you
Burning for you
And Im yearning for you
Longing for you

song performed by Carly Simon
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Enslaved

Alright alright this life is what you make it
Dont slide...you cant compromise
You click your heels 3 times imagination goes wild...
You cant analyze
So be sure that you are makin the best of what that you have
The truth is all within yourself
Dont be a slave ....a slave to someone else
Higher higher its where we want to be in our minds...
It will mesmerize
Its pleasure power thats what we devour....
You can have it crystallize
Now its time to look at what that youve done with your life
And that path you found and followed in
Yourself I wont be a slave...a slave to anyone
The question is
When its all done
Who will stand
And who will run
The answer is on my tongue
I wont be a slave to anyone
So be sure that you are makin the best of what you have
The truth is all within yourself
Dont be a slave....a slave to somone else

song performed by Motley Crue
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Napoleon

I

Cannon his name,
Cannon his voice, he came.
Who heard of him heard shaken hills,
An earth at quake, to quiet stamped;
Who looked on him beheld the will of wills,
The driver of wild flocks where lions ramped:
Beheld War's liveries flee him, like lumped grass
Nid-nod to ground beneath the cuffing storm;
While laurelled over his Imperial form,
Forth from her bearded tube of lacquey brass,
Reverberant notes and long blew volant Fame.
Incarnate Victory, Power manifest,
Infernal or God-given to mankind,
On the quenched volcano's cusp did he take stand,
A conquering army's height above the land,
Which calls that army offspring of its breast,
And sees it mid the starry camps enshrined;
His eye the cannon's flame,
The cannon's cave his mind.

II

To weld the nation in a name of dread,
And scatter carrion flies off wounds unhealed,
The Necessitated came, as comes from out
Electric ebon lightning's javelin-head,
Threatening agitation in the revealed
Founts of our being; terrible with doubt,
With radiance restorative. At one stride
Athwart the Law he stood for sovereign sway.
That Soliform made featureless beside
His brilliancy who neighboured: vapour they;
Vapour what postured statues barred his tread.
On high in amphitheatre field on field,
Italian, Egyptian, Austrian,
Far heard and of the carnage discord clear,
Bells of his escalading triumphs pealed
In crashes on a choral chant severe,
Heraldic of the authentic Charlemagne,
Globe, sceptre, sword, to enfold, to rule, to smite,
Make unity of the mass,
Coherent or refractory, by his might.

Forth from her bearded tube of lacquey brass,
Fame blew, and tuned the jangles, bent the knees
Rebellious or submissive; his decrees
Were thunder in those heavens and compelled:
Such as disordered earth, eclipsed of stars,

[...] Read more

poem by George Meredith
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The Helot

I.

Low the sun beat on the land,
Red on vine and plain and wood;
With the wine-cup in his hand,
Vast the Helot herdsman stood.

II.

Quench'd the fierce Achean gaze,
Dorian foemen paus'd before,
Where cold Sparta snatch'd her bays
At Achaea's stubborn door.

III.

Still with thews of iron bound,
Vastly the Achean rose,
Godward from the brazen ground,
High before his Spartan foes.

IV.

Still the strength his fathers knew
(Dauntless when the foe they fac'd)
Vein and muscle bounded through,
Tense his Helot sinews brac'd.

V.

Still the constant womb of Earth,
Blindly moulded all her part;
As, when to a lordly birth,
Achean freemen left her heart.

VI.

Still, insensate mother, bore
Goodly sons for Helot graves;
Iron necks that meekly wore
Sparta's yoke as Sparta's slaves.

VII.

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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The Tower Beyond Tragedy

I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions
Let fly from the wide window over the entrance the wildbirds of
their metal throats, air-cleaving
Over the King come home. He raised his thick burnt-colored
beard and smiled; then Clytemnestra,
Gathering the robe, setting the golden-sandaled feet carefully,
stone by stone, descended
One half the stair. But one of the captives marred the comeliness
of that embrace with a cry
Gull-shrill, blade-sharp, cutting between the purple cloak and
the bronze plates, then Clytemnestra:
Who was it? The King answered: A piece of our goods out of
the snatch of Asia, a daughter of the king,
So treat her kindly and she may come into her wits again. Eh,
you keep state here my queen.
You've not been the poorer for me.- In heart, in the widowed
chamber, dear, she pale replied, though the slaves
Toiled, the spearmen were faithful. What's her name, the slavegirl's?
AGAMEMNON Come up the stair. They tell me my kinsman's
Lodged himself on you.
CLYTEMNESTRA Your cousin Aegisthus? He was out of refuge,
flits between here and Tiryns.
Dear: the girl's name?
AGAMEMNON Cassandra. We've a hundred or so other
captives; besides two hundred
Rotted in the hulls, they tell odd stories about you and your
guest: eh? no matter: the ships
Ooze pitch and the August road smokes dirt, I smell like an
old shepherd's goatskin, you'll have bath-water?
CLYTEMNESTRA
They're making it hot. Come, my lord. My hands will pour it.

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Im A Slave 4 U

I know I may be young, but Ive got feelings too.
And I need to do what I feel like doing.
So let me go and just listen.
All you people look at me like Im a little girl.
Well did you ever think it be okay for me to step into this world.
Always saying little girl dont step into the club.
Well Im just tryin to find out why cause dancings what I love.
Get it get it, get it get it (whoooa)
Get it get it, get it get it (whoooooa)(do you like it)
Get it get it, get it get it (ooohhhh)(this feels good)
I know I may come off quiet, I may come off shy.
But I feel like talking, feel like dancing when I see this guy.
Whats practical is logical. what the hell, who cares?
All I know is Im so happy when youre dancing there.
Im a slave for you. I cannot hold it; I cannot control it.
Im a slave for you. I wont deny it; Im not trying to hide it.
Baby, dont you wanna, dance upon me,
(I just wanna dance next to you)
To another time and place.
Baby, dont you wanna, dance upon me,
(are you ready)
Leaving behind my name, my age.
(lets go)
(like that)
(you like it)
(now watch me)
Get it get it, get it get it (whoooa)
Get it get it, get it get it (whoooooa)
Get it get it, get it get it (ooohhhh)
[panting]
I really wanna dance, tonight with you.
(I just cant help myself)
I really wanna do what you want me to.
(I just feel I let myself go)
I really wanna dance, tonight with you.
(wanna see you move)
I really wanna do what you want me to.
(uh uh uh)
Baby, dont you wanna, dance upon me,
(I just wanna dance next to you)
To another time and place.
Baby, dont you wanna, dance upon me,
(are you ready)
Leaving behind my name, my age.
Im a slave for you. (take that) I cannot hold it; I cannot control it.
Im a slave (it just feels right) for you. (it just feels good)
I wont deny it; Im not trying to hide it. (baby)
Get it get it, get it get it (whoooa)
Get it get it, get it get it (whoooooa)
Get it get it, get it get it (ooohhhh)

[...] Read more

song performed by Britney Spears
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Murder Suicide Meteor Slave

(j.buckley)
Would you like to meet the villain somewhere
Underneath the skull of a moon.
Fire burned his eyes out
Cause his chains are too long for you.
Someone has to pay for the damage done.
N-ones gonna love you now.
Your whole familys splintered,
Youre a slave to it all,
Now.
Oooooo ahhhhh
Youre a slave to it all now
Youre a slve
Welcome down to paradise rock.
There is no single entrance,
With the stars to revolve around,
There is no real underground.
No stars to revolve around
Here, theyre fashioning the noose.
Sickened by the knell of the graveyard bell
You know its not long for you.
Sick of all the vomit childhood,
Not a trampoline for the freaks,
Not even a slave to your father.
Oh, youre a slave to it all, now,
Oh, youre a slave to it all, now.
Welcome down to paradise rock.
There is no single entrance
Theres no stars to revolve around
There is no real underground.
Youre a slave to it all, now.
Happy, happy, happy, happy,
Happy, happy, happy, happy.

song performed by Jeff Buckley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dambala

Tony mckay
Oh dambala come dambala
Oh dambala come dambala
Think of the wings of a three toed frog
Eat weeds from the deepest part of sea
Oh dambala come dambala
Oh dambala come dambala
On the seventh day God will be there
On the seventh night satan will be there
On the seventh day God will be there
On the seventh night satan will be there
You slavers will know
What its like to be a slave
Slave to your heart
Slave to your soul
Oh dambala come dambala
Oh dambala come dambala
You slavers will know what its
Like to be a slave
Slave to your mind
Slave to your race
You wont go to heaven
You wont go to hell
You remain in your graves
With the stench and the smell
Oh dambala come dambala
Oh dambala come dambala

song performed by Nina Simone
Added by Lucian Velea
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