“Middle Passage”: the WORD means blues to me.
Look at it front or backside, it still means BLUES to me.
If I’da been a sailor on the Seven Seas
I’da sailed the seven ENDS and let the MIDDLES be....
But if I’da been a sailor, I’da still been black.
THAT’S why the blues keeps sailin’ back.
The blues keeps sailin’ back.
I can HYP-NO-TIZE myself rememberin’ Grandma’s chair;
she had slave-girl mem’ries, and she rocked and hummed ‘em there:
her daddy’s neck and legs in chain, his own vomit in his hair -
stories Granda told me - she rocked and hum-m-ed ‘em there:
Great-grandpa’s neck and legs stretched out, with vomit in his hair;
and suddenly I’m runnin’-runnin’-runnin’ through the town,
faces spinnin’ ‘round me while I’m runnin’ through the town,
runnin’ with my feelin’s, tryin’ to run my feelin’s down,
Grandma hummin-n-n-n at my feelin’s while I’m tryin’ to run ‘em down;
till suddenly ... I see her chair, I feel she got my han’
and she’s sayin’ “When you grow up you be a Middle Passage man.”
Middle Passage mem’ries ... they in a dungeon in my head.
Ain’t no jailor, ain’t no keys, ain’t no judgment read;
but I hear clankin’, I hear breathin’ (all them dungeon folks ain’t dead);
Great-grandpa’s clankin’ while he’s breathin’ (chains the only word he said).
He’s breathin’ and I’m listenin’ and Granma’s got my han’
(Oh, if I’da been a sailor I’da sailed on past this lan’!).
I got the Middle Passage blues, and I can hardly stan’,
but Great-grandpa’s still there breathin’ and Granma’s got my han’
(I ain’t runnin’, I’m just standin’, but I had to have a plan,
something to KEEP me on my feet, ‘cause I’m in a dungeon lan’).
I got the Middle Passage blues, but my folks gave me a plan
(Grandma said it, “When you grow up you be a Middle Passage man”).
I’m a stand-up sailor.
I’m a Middle Passage man.
Look at it front or backside, it still means BLUES to me.
If I’da been a sailor on the Seven Seas
I’da sailed the seven ENDS and let the MIDDLES be....
But if I’da been a sailor, I’da still been black.
THAT’S why the blues keeps sailin’ back.
The blues keeps sailin’ back.
I can HYP-NO-TIZE myself rememberin’ Grandma’s chair;
she had slave-girl mem’ries, and she rocked and hummed ‘em there:
her daddy’s neck and legs in chain, his own vomit in his hair -
stories Granda told me - she rocked and hum-m-ed ‘em there:
Great-grandpa’s neck and legs stretched out, with vomit in his hair;
and suddenly I’m runnin’-runnin’-runnin’ through the town,
faces spinnin’ ‘round me while I’m runnin’ through the town,
runnin’ with my feelin’s, tryin’ to run my feelin’s down,
Grandma hummin-n-n-n at my feelin’s while I’m tryin’ to run ‘em down;
till suddenly ... I see her chair, I feel she got my han’
and she’s sayin’ “When you grow up you be a Middle Passage man.”
Middle Passage mem’ries ... they in a dungeon in my head.
Ain’t no jailor, ain’t no keys, ain’t no judgment read;
but I hear clankin’, I hear breathin’ (all them dungeon folks ain’t dead);
Great-grandpa’s clankin’ while he’s breathin’ (chains the only word he said).
He’s breathin’ and I’m listenin’ and Granma’s got my han’
(Oh, if I’da been a sailor I’da sailed on past this lan’!).
I got the Middle Passage blues, and I can hardly stan’,
but Great-grandpa’s still there breathin’ and Granma’s got my han’
(I ain’t runnin’, I’m just standin’, but I had to have a plan,
something to KEEP me on my feet, ‘cause I’m in a dungeon lan’).
I got the Middle Passage blues, but my folks gave me a plan
(Grandma said it, “When you grow up you be a Middle Passage man”).
I’m a stand-up sailor.
I’m a Middle Passage man.
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