Another day under the burning sun
Waiting for the rain that never comes
Waiting for the king to do something
But for his majesty our lives don't mean a thing
Another day under the burning sun
Some stranger passing by our town
Said before tomorrow he'll be gone
Asked if he could rest at the house
He told me I got hands of a writer
Fragile hands that can change the world
That I got eyes, and the will of a fighter
That I should be free and speak the word
So out of love and maybe some despair
I painted my nails and I braided my hair
Bought me some ink and got me some paper
And I wrote down a fifty-page long letter
He told me I got hands of a writer
Fragile hands that can change the world
That I got eyes, and the will of a fighter
That I should be free and speak the word
Days later, gunshots were fired
Have we been heard, was it the riot?
Ran out the door and ran into the prophet
He said the king wrote down my name on a bullet
He told me I got hands of a writer
Fragile hands that can change the world
That I got eyes, and the will of a fighter
That I should be free and speak the word
