I Found Out Along The Way That

I Remember The Day Tdr. King Died. I Wasn't Angry At The Beginning. It Was Like Something Very Personal In My Life Had Been Touched And Finished.

I Was Unique In That I Was A Kind Of Black That White People Could Accept. I Was Their Daydream. I Had The Worst Kind Of Acceptance Because It Was Never For How Great I Was Or What I Contributed. It Was Because Of The Way I Looked.

I Was Lucky, As Many Of My Generation Was, In Having A Man Like Dr. King In Our Lives. He Came At A Time That We Needed To Take A Long Look At Each Other And See How Similar We Were.

You Wouldn't Be Allowed To Get On A Particular Bus, But You'd Be Asked To Sign Your Autograph.

As Much As I Try, When I Open My Mouth, Lena Comes Out, And I Get So Mad.