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
