poem-- Daybreak in Georgia
when i get to be a composer
i'm gonna write me some music about
DAYBREAK IN GEORGIA
and i'm gonna put the purest song in it
rising out of the ground lie a swamp mist
and falling out of heaven like soft dew!
i'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
and a scent of pine needles
and the smell of res clay after rain
and long red necks
and poppy colored faces
and big brown arms
and the field daisy eyes
of black and white black white black people
and i'm gonna put white hands
and black hands and brown and yellow hands
and red clay earth hand in it
touching everybody with kind fingers
ans touching each other natural as dew
in that damn of music when i
get to be a composer
and write about DAYBREAK
IN GEORGIA!!!!!
i'm gonna write me some music about
DAYBREAK IN GEORGIA
and i'm gonna put the purest song in it
rising out of the ground lie a swamp mist
and falling out of heaven like soft dew!
i'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
and a scent of pine needles
and the smell of res clay after rain
and long red necks
and poppy colored faces
and big brown arms
and the field daisy eyes
of black and white black white black people
and i'm gonna put white hands
and black hands and brown and yellow hands
and red clay earth hand in it
touching everybody with kind fingers
ans touching each other natural as dew
in that damn of music when i
get to be a composer
and write about DAYBREAK
IN GEORGIA!!!!!