On The Mountain Meshell Ndegéocello

God made his face, made his hands, made his mouth, that black griot tongue spitting out a call to revolution, not a revolution of blood, but of the mind and hands, that which builds not destroys, that which lives in faith, not in the untruths of the world

God made his face, and in that face the revolution that was his griot mouth, the ferocity of truth in his eyes, his hands, these stories, with him and in us, gather your hands, your stories, gather, gather, gather in his name, gather, gather

With the powers that be, Nothing is planned It's a shame
Cuz I don't like workin too hard
The pressure to rule with power
When common sense is in
Like Your heart it beats too slow
There's a world to overthrow
Like your heart
Too slow too slow

People who don't never will
Kill you in the morning
Certainly responsible almost

With the powers that be
Freedom's a sham
It's a shame
Cuz I don't like lovin' too hard
Like your heart
It beats too slow

Too slow