| She was delivered by the grace of his hands
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| Kindness, relentless, wired to be shared
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| People stood awkwardly and gazed across the room
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| She walked with such elegance in the places that she knew
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| Flawlessness, contagious, compassionate, engagement
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| In these hands I belong, in these hands you belong
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| Foolish, segregation, scars deep beneath the skin
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| Of the black man and the white man and everyone in between
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| Forever sacred was the feminine, right down to the final hour
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| When every baby to be taken was to be poisoned to be soured
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| Bodies turning in their graves and spirits waiting to go home
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| Disconnected from their holy place when the museum stole their bones
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| Cry freedom, still bleeding, still waiting for a reason
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| Throw these arms around the world, throw these arms around the world
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| Through the eye of a needle we tried to move the stone
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| So heavy from its history of shame and blood and bone
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| Gather the hands to move the stone
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| Gather the hands to move the stone
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| Sing it up to the heavens
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| Let it rain down on us all
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| Through the eye of a needle we tried to move the stone
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| So heavy from its history of shame and blood and bone |