Because I am the white man's son -- his own Bearing the bastard birth-mark on my face, I will dispute his title to his throne, Forever fight him for my rightful place. There is a searing hate within my soul, A hate that only kin can feel for kin, A hate that makes me vigorous and whole, And spurs me on increasingly to win. Because I am my cruel father's child, My love of justice stirs me up to hate, A warring Ishmaelite, unreconciled, When falls the hour I shall not hestitate Into my father's heart to plunge the knife To gain the utmost freedom that is life. |