A song for the oppressed. Rise my people, rise up and dance! Lift your voices and sing! Sing the songs of your fathers and remember the smile and beauty of your mothers. Let the sun reflect on your brown skin and energize your melanin; let the sun’s rays kiss and bless your lovely hue! Sing my people, sing! Let your voices rise to the heavens and shake the earth! Sing my people, sing! Sing because we are sanguine, and because our people are of a beautiful brown hue. The melanin within us reverberate and jump to the rhythm of our ancient songs and cadences. Women, let your octaves drift through the generations, and men let your baritones vibrate through the bones of the dead! Sing children, sing! Let your voices ripple through the universe and the vast galaxies! Sing the songs of freedom, and hum the hymns of rebellion! We are not a defeated people; we have life in us yet! Sing you generations of the oppressed, sing a new song of hope and triumph! Let the ancestors in the spirit world hear it, and dance again! Let them move with vigor and rhythm. Dance, my ancestors, dance! Pound the drums and move your feet! Oh, those old songs of rebellion, and those beautiful songs of uprising! Let loose of your shackles, overtake your oppressors, and let us live, but if we must die, we die in insurrection, and we die side by side. Our eternal souls shall still sing! We shall be remembered.