My latest rap song……………

Daughter of the Revolution

I’ve been used and abused, maligned and accused. I’ve been raped and pushed aside, silenced and gagged.

My heart is aching. My third eye is open. My soul is witness to all that is. But I’m getting weary of all this gropin’.

I’ve been overfed and starved, body shamed and back bitten. I’m qualified and certified and soft as a kitten

Chorus: Sometimes I can’t watch. And sometimes I can’t listen to what’s goin’ on. What’s goin’ on. What’s goin’ on. What’s goin’ on.                                                                                 How does it feel to be a sister,  a mother, a daughter, a lover of the revolution? Let’s get it on. Let’s get it on. Let’s get it on. Let’s get it on

I’ve been bought and I’ve been sold. My information shared and doled. Been drugged and overdosed, poisoned and GMOed.

The sea level is rising, which is not surprising. Stopped being complicit and made that explicit. I’ve used my words and I-statements too, cried until I was blue.

Pink pussy hat, jeans tattered and torn, I’ve nearly bled to death. Thought I was right. Always leaned to the left

Still I dance in the moonlight, and march on the beach, achieve states of bliss just out of reach

I’ve done it all. Been f***ed over, raped and groped, forced into submission, and been a big dope.

I’ve been called a dirty whore, swam in a sea of shame. I said no – and he came. And I’m a colonial dame.

Chorus: Sometimes I can’t watch. And sometimes I can’t listen to what’s goin’ on. What’s goin’ on. What’s goin’ on. What’s goin’ on.                                                                                  I’m a sister. I’m a mother. I’m a daughter. I’m a lover of the revolution. Let’s get it on. Let’s get it on. Let’s get it on. Let’s get it on.

I’ve been wet as a whistle, been dry as a bone, been hot as a tamale, been cold as a fish and made you wish you could have some of this.

I’ve kept secrets I no longer want to keep. My third eye is open. I’m not going back to sleep.

I am finding my voice. The sleigh bells are ringing. I can’t carry a tune, but this caged bird is singing.

Chorus: Sometimes I can’t watch. And sometimes I can’t listen to what’s goin’ on. What’s goin’ on. What’s goin’ on. What’s goin’ on.                                                                                  How does it feel to be a sister, a mother, a daughter, a lover of the revolution? Let’s get it on, sister. Let’s get it on, sister. Let’s get it on, sister. Let’s get it on, sister.

Amy Sullivan                                                                                                                                       ☮️ Oct. 5, 2018

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