LYRICS We picking cotton, sweating and bleeding, somewhat forgotten, our fingers rotten. Regardless of our plans, or what’s plotting, is so modern. Not physically, but mentally, generations, serves a penalty. From atheist and deity, globally, distracts reality. It’s not a race war like we think. Its war on how you think, our mind is in a clink. The master aint got a whip. Nor do we have tickets to ride the ship, aint that a _ It’s a reverse, of what you learn, and what you teach, what y