Hard earned lines, on these hands of mine
Calloused by the times, my ancestors were right
Generations live, and generations die
We will surpass the last, in all we do and realize
It is ancient love, rooted sprouting up
On the wind, all things must begin
We are almost home, and we reach it we will know
Communities of color are communities of hope
Betrayal is hard to get past, my mother outta know
Broken beated people alive and full of strain
Inner city nomads are allies on the way
It is ancient love, rooted sprouting up
On the wind, all things must begin
We are almost home, and we reach it we will know
Truth my pack my burden, a load I often drive
The heaviness of wisdom, the weight upon my back
Look at how we've hungered and each in of our own
Struggle I am grateful for loss from which I've grown
It is ancient love, rooted sprouting up
On the wind, all things must begin
We are always home, and we understand it shows
It is ancient love, rooted sprouting up
On the wind, all things must begin
We are always home, and we understand it shows
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
Sign in to post the first listener note. Reporting stays open to everyone.