The Spring air hit Kentucky on just another day
The bricks lay by the fields
The cities and the horses meet
To run from the prairies to the streets.
And hooded servants like that of Ankou –
Fill up with artillery and the monsters within reach into pockets
And can’t say her name
Because to them she didn’t have a name.
The fascists jockeys that ride onto fainting thoroughbreds –
To pray surrounded by a predatorial illness
To pray-in what you want your ideal to be
To not match the ideal of thee.
Who is your God? Where does your Paraclete emerge from?
The bubbles of blood you create,
The dream of the young dissipates,
You wear the skin as the badge,
The prized buck that sits bodiless on your wall.
Le reve des jeune, elle s’appelle Breonna. Pouvez-vous?
Cowards can you say her name?
The helicopters, the earthquakes, the fireworks,
The guns pop, and you scatter
Away like the cowards,
The fury of the streets, the siren’s beat.
Asleep in your dead skipping song
When we yell, Say her Name!
When they yell, Say her Name!
The sunshine peddles away behind your ant shaped clouds
The rest of us are mice that’ll find the cowardly lion.
The roar hiding in dresser drawers.
To peek out, to hear if you’re still being talked about
Just want it to go away, watch the ink decay on newspapers.
Every now and then
Several racing moments in your dead skipping song.
Backtrack to forward, stagnate
Was really looking forward to the chorus that we can never get to,
You can’t say her name!
You can’t say her name, You can’t say her name
A policeman arrived in the every man’s cloth.
The bloodshed, and you fall to the God
You fall to the Holy spirit, you fall and have failed at freedom.
Il sangue versato e fallisci per l’umanita
Now say her name
Ora di il suo nome
Maintenant dis son nom
Ahora di su nombre
Jetzt sag ihren Namen
In any language
Say her name
Give her justice