one thing I donโt need is any more apologies i got sorry greetin me at my front door you can keep yrs i donโt know what to do wit em they donโt open doors or bring the sun back they donโt make me happy or get a mornin paper didnโt nobody stop usin my tears to wash cars cuz a sorry.
Ntozake Shangesomebody/ anybody sing a black girl's song bring her out to know herself to know you but sing her rhythms carin/ struggle/ hard times sing her song of life she's been dead so long closed in silence so long she doesn't know the sound of her own voice her infinite beauty she's half-notes scattered without rhythm/ no tune sing her sighs sing the song of her possibilities sing a righteous gospel let her be born let her be born & handled warmly.
Ntozake Shange