On The Mountain

God made his face

Made his hands, made his mouth

That black griot tongue spitting out a call to revolution

Not a revolution of blood, but of the mind and hands

That which builds, not destroys

That which lives in faith, not in the untruths of the world

God made his face, and in that face the revolution that was his griot mouth

The ferocity of truth in his eyes

His hands, these stories, with him and in us

Gather your hands, your stories

Gather, gather

Gather in his name, gather, gather

With the powers that be

Nothing is planned

It's a shame 'cause I don't like workin' too hard

The pressure to rule with power

When common sense is in

Like your heart, it beats too slow

There's a world to overthrow

Like your heart

Too slow, too slow

People who don't, never will

Kill you in the morning

Certainly responsible

Almost

Almost

With the powers that be

Freedom's a sham

It's a shame 'cause I don't like lovin' too hard

Like your heart, it beats too slow

Kill you in the morning

Too slow

Like your heart

Like your heart

Like your heart beats too slow

Like your heart beats too slow, slow

'Cause I don't like lovin' too hard

With the powers that be