This mule ain't from Moscow.
This mule ain't from the South.
But this mule's had some learning.
Mostly mouth to mouth.
This mule could be called stubborn and lazy.
But in a clever sort of way,
this mule could
be working,
waiting,
and learning and planning for a sacred kind of day.
A day when burning
sticks and crosses is not mere child's play,
but a madman in his most incandescent bloom,
whose loveless soul is imperfection in its most lustrous groom.
So stand fast, young old mule,
soothe in contemplation that burning hole and aching thigh.
Your stubbornness is of the living,
and cruel anxiety is about to die.
Freedom for your daddy.
Freedom for your mama.
Freedom for your brothers and sisters,
but no freedom for me.
Freedom
for your daddy's daddy.
Freedom for your mama's mama.
Is forgotten.
Freedom for your daddy's daddy.
Freedom for your mama's mama.
Freedom
for your brothers and sisters.
But no freedom for me.