Better buddies made with sound
Sound that won’t go unfound
A life of ruin that won’t come to be
With beeps and bops made by the free
Separated from swing
To free one’s wings
A new jazz sound will come to be
Money no more
Just beats on the floor
Africans, Hispanics, and grooving galore
The start of a bop
Would make hearts stop
Such as the lives that were left no more
1963
JFK
1964
Malcom X
1968
MLK
Impactful souls left to lay
Where they were given tribute on this fateful day
1969
Summer of Soul
A year of celebration from young and old
And singer’s stories would be told
Gatherers of Harlem come to praise culture
Black bodies finally seen as people of pure
Party, food, and musical fun
No one was feared and no one would run
And to pay respects to the King
Mahila Jackson would sing
Precious Lord, Take My Hand
The song adored by the man
Thousands upon thousands of musical deities
Keeping in line with everyone’s pleas
It was a day of joy
But the day’s heart stopped beating
The day’s heart was forgotten
Though it would be revived
And brought into light
The festival’s legacy
Wouldn’t go down without a fight
Better buddies made with sound
Sound that won’t go unfound
A life of ruin that won’t come to be
With beeps and bops made by the free
