..........Still I Rise .............

You may write me down in history


With your bitter, twisted lies,


You may trod me in the very dirt


But still, like dust, I'll rise.


Does my sassiness upset you?


Why are you beset with gloom?


'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells


Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,


With the certainty of tides,


Just like hopes springing high,


Still I'll rise.


Did you want to see me broken?


Bowed head and lowered eyes?


Shoulders falling down like teardrops.


Weakened by my soulful cries.


Does my haughtiness offend you?


Don't you take it awful hard


'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines


Diggin' in my own back yard.


You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,


You may kill me with your hatefulness,


But still, like air, I'll rise.


Does my sexiness upset you?


Does it come as a surprise


That I dance like I've got diamonds


At the meeting of my thighs?


Out of the huts of history's shame


I rise


Up from a past that's rooted in pain


I rise


I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,


Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.


Leaving behind nights of terror and fear


I rise


Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear


I rise


Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,


I am the dream and the hope of the slave.


I rise


I rise


I rise.

             ......Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night .......

Do not go gentle into that good night,


Old age should burn and rave at close of day;


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Though wise men at their end know dark is right,


Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.


Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright


Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,


And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,


Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight


Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


And you, my father, there on that sad height,


Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.


Do not go gentle into that good night.


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.