Yes, oh yes, I believe in you, for I believe in love.
As the morning dew, drips from battered leaves,
blending with the blood of freedom saturating sacred ground,
and the brids, return to flights of fancy
nervously producing such melodic sounds,
As the Sun Ra, peeks through the clouds,
finally prepared to accept, the inevitability,
You and I will return to love,
and love will be waiting expectantly
As a little girl, dances on a ghetto rooftop,
imagining an escape, into Broadway bliss,
and a homeless man, without an identity,
is presented by that little girl a Christmas card,
and jarred into consciousness
You and I will return to love,
and with love we will coexist
Over and over again I've heard tales of Fathers, and Sons, and Spirit trails,
but I learned long ago through sacrifice that demonic forces don't sport tails,
but weave tales of vile, Sig Heil,
and watch impassively as bloated bodies float down the Nile,
as the world's people stand in chains, single file,
waiting for a Redemption Song never to be sung,
for the crowd stood impassively by and watched the Klan hang the savior to come
As tiny flags representing the cruelty of war,litter fields in Maryland,
stretching for miles and miles,
and those hoping to catch the express train, to paradise,
are left sanding forlornly at the turnstiles
You and I will return to love,
and love will at last be all worthwhile
As a theory, becomes a man's truth,
and the truth, is left without a bride,
as the widow, of my arrogance,
is buried beneath my pride
You and I will retrun to love,
and fly over mountains high and rivers wide
I will seek to find that place within,
where you and I can begin once again,
though I know past indiscretions will make you hard to convince,
my time in purgatory was indeed well spent,
you see, I didn't repent to a serpent, but to a rainbow,
and in my conscious thought I heard the melody of birds
build into a crescendo
As the day, begins anew,
to many not much different than the one that passed,
and a chill, in the autumn winds,
signals an end to the hissing of wet summer grass
You and I will return to love,
and love will erase the helplessness of our forgotten past
As a tired mother, kisses her child,
and waits on a deserted bus stop, filled with a newfound inspiration,
world leaders will pause, in their persuit of poisoned power,
to give her a long awaited declaration
You and I will return to love,
and love will be our Final Emancipation
Yes, oh yes, I truly believe,
I pray that you do as well,
for living in this life without love,
is the definition of a living hell,
so let us be,
As Love defines