I Stand Alone

Sometimes we feel alone

But alone ain’t always wrong

[Common:]

Alone in a crowded room

My mind made up like a powder room

I’m the sun, giving the clouds some room

I shine, shine like the hour noon

Tune is to stay in step with every day men

And women, the rhythm of the realness

Still I’m legend like Will Smith

In the presence of the fake I am a real gift

Open it, open it or be something dope in it

Movement of the people getting motion sick

We ride on the highs and lows of it

On the Southside we got holes for it

Standing up like Rich Pryor we get fire and inspire

‘Bout a prospect to get higher

Your sire on the throne

Grew up around the stones

The ranger, so I stand alone

Patrick Stump - Hook:

I’m flying high up in the sky

I feel that love, I feel that high

I stand alone, I stand alone

I stand alone, I stand alone

The only test is to survive

I will succeed I will not die

I stand alone, I stand alone

I stand alone, I stand alone

[Common]

Success it is, we blessed to live

Not just my kids want the best for his

Progression lives where the lessons is

I got my own, God bless the kid

In the mid part of Babylon listening to Farrakhan

In the parks of Avalon, streets we would battle on

Got the good book in my carry-on

Life is a race I’m the marathon

Man on the moon, give the boy some room

Rose from the concrete, told you I would bloom

Situation brought out the hero

A little black 13 year old

The voice of the Lord in my earlobe

Telling me my purpose I could see it clearer

Revolution in the execution of lyrics

Spirit of Gil Scott, Marvin Gaye, modern day I pray

2 x Hook:

I’m flying high up in the sky

I feel that love, I feel that high

I stand alone, I stand alone

I stand alone, I stand alone

The only test is to survive

I will succeed I will not die

I stand alone, I stand alone

I stand alone, I stand alone

I know I know I know,

I know I know I know

[Interlude: Michael Eric Dyson]

The irresistible appeal of Black individuality

Where has all of that gone?

The very people who blazed our path to self-expression

and pioneered a resolutely distinct and individual voice

have too often succumbed to mind-numbing saneness

and been seduced by simply repeating what we hear,

what somebody else said or thought

and not digging deep to learn what we think or what we feel,

or what we believe.

Now it is true that the genius of African culture is surely its repetition, but the key to such repetition was that new elements were added each round.

Every round goes higher and higher.

Something fresh popped off the page or jumped from a rhythym that had been recycled through the imagination of a writer or a musician.

Each new installation ore the imprint of our unquenchable thirst to say something of our own, in our own way, in our own voice as best we could.

The trends of the times be damned.

Thank God we've still got musicians and thinkers whose obsession with excellence and whose hunger for greatness remind us that we should all be unsatisfied with mimicking the popular, rather than mining the fertile veins of creativity that God placed deep inside each of us.