ingrid johnson runnaway to america şarkı sözleri
RUN AWAY TO AMERICA
I want to
run
run away
to America
where fashion is always
Changing
where
everything
BIG
is always happening
and some beautiful black men
still treat beautiful black women
like Queens
I want to
run
run away
to America
where dreams
have the possibility of
coming true,
in the form of opportunities
available for those of us who choose
Some days,
Some days,
I really want to
run
run away
to America
and leave
Conservative
North America
behind
130
in exchange for New York City,
a brown stone apartment and
a spot at Club 13 in Greenwich Village—
sharing my poetry with a live audience
each and every night.
Sometimes,
Sometimes,
I really want to
run,
runaway
to America
and embrace the music
that creeps up on the inside
of the souls of
overcrowded
Manhattan streets
from Radio Disc Jockeys
like Angie Martinez
at HOT 97
where they’re always
spinning
the baddest
new BEATS
to the sound of
basketballs dribbling
and b-ball playas
shifting, shifting
their feet
as they shoot high
off teetering rims
at Madison Square Garden
for millions of fans screaming—
as I keep on dreaming,
131
that some day, someday
I would really love to
run,
run away
to America
where
Black,
White
and Puerto Rican men
aren’t afraid to step
to a strong, sexy, independent, Black sistah
like me—aren’t afraid to lay down
their pride and spit a few lines
in order to let me know
that they’re really interested
in where I’m coming from,
and how deep they’re willing to go,
to meet me there
That’s why
some days,
some days,
I really want to
run
run away
to America
where I can finally start living out
my dreams where
my aspirations can finally grow wings
and my poetic talent can spread
like weeds
132
as I slam dunk my way into
an international book deal,
and explore the impossible
now being made possible
instead of the illusion of a pipe dream
lost on a hundred deaf ears
over here in Canada
my home and Native land
where my plans for the future
never seem to come true
although
I really do love Canada
and the certain privileges
it provides
but I still can’t help
feeling
as though
I am only
living—half alive
Until I
run
run away
to America
where Kwanzaa
and Black history month
really do come alive.
