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LETTER TO BIGGER THOMAS
1.ye bright morning sun,
All negros are born,
with anxiety and enthusiasm,
our wing were made to fly,
2.prosperity I wish thou,
In all corners of life,
with thou oughtmost strife,
In the shrine of the master.
3.l see signs of glory,
In the pot of porage,
I hear sounds of stories
About the end of the tunnel.
4.Champions tomorrow I see,
with byeguns of testimonies
And all the fans beneath,
with tongues of glory.
5.Then at last I will be a man,
A man of with mighty sword,
standing on mountains of the top height.
But at last thou curtains are drawn,
with his name on the walls.
All negros are born,
with anxiety and enthusiasm,
our wing were made to fly,
2.prosperity I wish thou,
In all corners of life,
with thou oughtmost strife,
In the shrine of the master.
3.l see signs of glory,
In the pot of porage,
I hear sounds of stories
About the end of the tunnel.
4.Champions tomorrow I see,
with byeguns of testimonies
And all the fans beneath,
with tongues of glory.
5.Then at last I will be a man,
A man of with mighty sword,
standing on mountains of the top height.
But at last thou curtains are drawn,
with his name on the walls.
