Your feet walks on the ground which got cemented over our bodies and our struggle and our hustle and our fight and our blood.
Just the way we walked on the ground underneath which lay our ancestors' struggle, hustle fight, blood.
Walk such a walk, my women, that when the next layer of cement is coated over your bodies, the plates of the earth should start trembling a little bit.
That records every word you've ever thought about saying Staples like a postcard every place you have been to alone or have thought about going With someone
Its bawls the name of the person you have so far only loved like a whisper
It cuts your body into a shape of a small lock
Ready to open Waiting to open Actually, no Yearning...