You Don't Own Me

You Don’t Own Me

You don’t own me, You never did own me
You didn’t own my ancestors
Just because you had guns and whips
And hound dogs that hunted and bit at their hips
But you didn’t own me.
You restricted my movements and kept me in chains
You brought me here and changed my name
You forbade me to speak in my own mother’s tongue
You held me captive at the point of a gun
But you did’t own me

You took my children and sold them away
You made me work in the heat of the day
You stripped me naked and hired me out
Exploited me sexually and tore my tongue out
But you didn’t own me.
My back bears the scars of a man who was free
You testify truth when you hung me from the tree
You could not contain me, my spirit was free
The thing you feared most
Was you didn’t own me.

God put the light  in me  you could never put out
My soul wasn’t imprisoned, and with that I had clout
I bowed my head, but did not bow my mind
The freedom I had was buried within
You could torture my body, you could cut me to my spine
But you never no never could  imprison my mind
You don’t own me, you never did own me.