I am the stone that the builder refused,
I am the visual, the inspiraration that made lady sing the blues,
I am the spark that make your ideas bright, the same spark that lights the dark so that you can know your left from your right,
I am the ballot in the box, the bullet in the gun, that inner glow that lets you know to call you brother son,
The story that just begun,
The promise of whats to come,
And Ima remail a soilder until the war is won
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