| Shackles are heavy on the wrist
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| Stacked like sardines, belly of a ship
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| Live in your own piss and shit and being seasick
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| Cracked across your back with a thick leather whip
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| Salt water burns through your wounds
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| Women are starving with babies in their wombs
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| On your hands and knees trying to cry God please
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| Exhausted, your voice is too weak to speak
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| Neighbors and strangers are dying beside you
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| Their decaying bodies you’re tied to
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| Cling tight to your fight for survival
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| Wonder if your tribe will ever try to find you
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| Arrive somewhere strange, the air is cold
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| You can see your breath and you’re barely clothed
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| Your first time ever seeing snow
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| Sleeping next to it on a hard dirt floor
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| Go from can’t seeing see in the morning to can’t see at night
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| You work till your hands bleed white
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| Your native language you can’t recite
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| Murdered on sight if you try to read or write
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| When you bend all of your life and can’t see the light
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| It get’s painful to stand upright
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| Right?
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| And your eyes bear the sight of your wife
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| Being being pulled out your shack and brutalized at night
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| You only taste joy when babies are born
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| Which becomes an occasion to mourn
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| Separated, torn from your celebrating arms
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| Then as quickly as they came they were gone
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| Sold away from your farm this is all they’ve known
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| Never heard stories from home
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| They forget your name
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| The culture from which you came
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| Teaching it’ll get you slain
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| Praying to your God will get you the same
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| Tortured to near death lest you complain
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| No choice left, you sing through the pain
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| And pray that your suffering wasn’t in vain
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| End of your chain, end of your life
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| Your grandchildren born with no end in sight
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| So you muster up all of your might
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| And your last breath comes out (fight)
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| This is actually true
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| Now stop and imagine that’s you
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| Now stop imagining unravel the truth and ask just who is it happening to
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| Everything that the passenger do
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| The driver experience too
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| So if humanity is one
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| Then we all get burned when it’s hell that we’re traveling through
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| You’ve got to save my soul
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| Put me back together make me whole
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| Said we don’t know which way to go
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| Take my hand and place me on that road
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| Trapped in a history we don’t understand
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| Can’t remember how this blood got on our hands
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| Never been taught about the ugly past
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| Expecting God not to punish man
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| Our ancestors brought us control
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| We realize now that the cost was our soul
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| Got me feeling like an empty shell
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| Prison guard that inherited a cell
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| I’m desperate to find my place
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| Emptiness lies behind my face
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| Flowers only die in a vase
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| A heart only dies encased in a lie we call race
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| I hear the song but I can’t sing along
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| Something’s really wrong I can’t put my finger on
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| Terrified to admit it’s wrong
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| Cause I’m hiding in the ruins of a legacy that still lives on
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| Our identity is hinged upon the miserable myth we’ve been taught since we’re
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| born
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| Until we mend what was torn
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| The debt of a sin lingers long after the vicitim’s moans
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| This is actually true
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| Now stop and imagine that’s you
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| Now stop imagine and unravel the truth
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| And ask just who is it happening to
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| Everything that the passenger do the driver experience too
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| So if humanity is one then we all get burned when it’s hell that we’re
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| traveling through |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Travelers , by - Brother Ali. Song from the album Us, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп