my mother used to whore herself

and my father

would reap the benefits of her labor

it was almost as if she was absent

absent from her own life

i remember

she would scrub the floors for the white folks

just to come home

to cook and to clean

for the man who broke her

and i Love to watch her dance to the tunes on

the soul stations, yeah

just to ease her mind



but my mother

she was vindictive in her own fashion

so she passed down to me her traits

like that of her brown eyes and her dark hair

she passed down to me

her sadness



make me wanna holler

the sadness fills my heart

make me wanna holler

make me wanna holler

make me wanna holler

baby

make me wanna holler



my child will one day ask me

what will i be?

as a child i promised myself

i'd never be

like my mother or my father

i would ask myself,

"did he feel so much pain

that it would make him wanna hurt another?"



but there was no excuse

there was no excuse to make up for the pain

that i knew my mother felt



but somewhere my destiny came

that i too became a slave, to my heart

wanting Love so badly

that i'd do anything

no matter the shame



make me wanna holler

i...

Love me

make me wanna holler

tell me

make me wanna holler

mmm, so sorry

make me wanna holler

so sorry



why?

i never got the nerve

to ask my father "why?"

but my mother

she would say,

she stayed for my brother and myself

but i would have sold my soul

just to share in one day

of my mother's desired happiness



when night fell

sometimes when night fell

i'd