We heard your song.
Mark put in the melody, righteous even.
You and the scrubbers fighting over the ink.
white hands wrestling
white hands over white shame.
You wrote the first one
Drew this country exactly as ugly as it was.
219 times and never counted once.
Don't worry,
somebody kept the books.
But put the old book down.
Not much has really happened.
Let me show you the sequel.
They closed the book.
And called it done.
Stamped it, Legal said.
We want.
Turn the page.
turn the page.
Welcome to the sequel.
Welcome to the sequel.
They didn't break the chains.
They painted them blue.
County Bus, County Box, County.
Amanda Satin who is who,
Man in a cage stitching shirts all day,
$0.09 an hour.
Go check the label. Slavery is abolished. Keep reading.
Doesn’t accept one little clause.
Ain’t done the work yet.
That's not freedom, that's the sequel.
They closed the book.
And called it done.
Stamped it, Legal said.
We want,
Turn the page.
turn the page.
Welcome to the sequel.
Welcome to the sequel.
They retired the word, had a ceremony for it.
They didn’t need it, locked it away.
Now it walks around under an initial, witness protection, out on parole.
Everybody knows it,
nobody says it,
Everybody keeps it.
Nobody claims it.
You can bury a word and still keep the habit.
That's not gone.
That's the sequel.
Little girl reading history.
Chapter closed.
We overcame.
School‑bus road passes the county jail.
Tell her again how they stayed the same.
They closed the book.
And called it done.
Stamped it, Legal said.
We want.
Turn the page.
Turn the page.
Welcome to the sequel.
Welcome to the sequel.
So here's your second chance, Mark.
And not just yours.
You held the marrow and the country’s hateful view.
Hold it up again, this century, this page.
Write it ugly, exacting, on shame, being true.
Only one thing’s changed.
And it's the big one.
This time.
We hold the pen with you.
I want to see it happen.
