Echoes of History

**Echoes of History**

Ya, ya, ya, yaa,
You know, we learned from the best,  
Those who came before us,  
With their white coats and cold hearts,  
In Louisiana, they wrote the first chapters,  
Of insurrection and despair,  
A cruel ledger penned in blood.

Remember Tuskegee?  
Where they watched black men suffer,  
Syphilis, a silent specter,  
While pretending to care,  
With penicillin in hand,  
But it was just a front,  
A morbid study of decay.

And those blankets,  
Oh, the irony wrapped in warmth,  
Smallpox sewn into the seams,  
As they walked the Trail of Tears,  
Hope turned to ash,  
A genocide cloaked in kindness,  
Land taken as they vanished.

The violence in America,  
It’s not a whisper,  
It’s a well-learned lesson,  
Taught by those who think they own the ground,  
And yet, it’s the voices of the forgotten,  
That rise like a phoenix from the ashes,  
Demanding to be heard,  
Demanding justice for every scar.

So let’s talk about it,  
Let’s lay bare the truths,  
Not just the polished history,  
But the raw, the real, the painful,  
For in understanding the past,  
We hold the key to a different future,  
One where the echoes of history  
No longer bind us, but free us.

Rap, hip hop Rap