Frank Goodman

Swing down sweet chariot stop and let me breathe;

Survivors of loved ones need to grieve.

Thirty-eight thousand on a cold cold gurney;

Gangsters killing on a night time journey.

Pop! goes the sound of a weapon of hate;

Taking a life from a parent or mate.

No remorse;

No apology;

Nothing left but a eulogy.

Family and friends take one last look;

Visitors and friends please sign the book.

Gone forever this life from earth;

A child of God that a mother cherished from birth.

On-lookers cry with their heads in hand;

As another body get covered with sand.

Ashes to ashes;

and dust to dust;

This killing must stop;

It must!

I remember when we were Black and loud;

Singing songs and chanting I'm Black and I'm proud!

Now, we are Black and culturally assimilated;

Still Black, confused, and largely incarcerated.

Swing down sweet chariot;

Stop and let us ride.

And tell us what happened to Black pride.