The word that remembers right and sparks a light in the night, leading to tormoil and social fright, is the word that is often out of sight. Never taught in school where the golden rule isn't gold at all, and never harkens to the black mans' call. The call of our people just to be, someone erased from our memory. Someone who struggles to understand, what does it mean to be an African?... Cause even those on the continent have paid the cost, no longer boss, with memory lost... frozen in time by their man Jack Frost. While we search religious books to find the crooks, the ones that took, our lives and shook, the world as it used to be, when those like us once lived free, and the riddle of God was no mystery. Cause the word that remembers right, and leads to light in the night where none can compete, will reveal that this crook truely has two feet.