When you turn the corner

The stars are beautiful,So the eyes of my people.Beautiful, also, is the sun.Beautiful, also, are the souls of my people.

Cause there ain’t no senseIn my bein’ dead.

And my throatIs deep with song,You do not thinkI suffer afterI have held my painSo long?Because my mouthIs wide with laughter,You do not hearMy inner cry?Because my feetAre gay with dancing,You do not knowI die?

Growing on a purple tree.Taste it onceAnd the spell of its enchantmentWill never let you be.LoveIs a bright starGlowing in far Southern skies.Look too hardAnd its burning flameWill always hurt your eyes.LoveIs a high mountainStark in a windy sky.If youWould never lose your breathDo not climb too high.

Asked me for a kiss.

He’s been a mule so longHe’s forgotten about his race.I’m like that old mule —Black — and don’t give a damn!You got to take meLike I am.