Gil Scott-Heron
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The King Alfred Plan

Gil Scott-Heron


Um, it's 1972, an election year, and, once again, black people are running for their lives. Reasons are things like the King Alfred Plan. The concentration camps that we used during the second World War to house oriental-Americans are now being refurbished to, um, confine their new residents-I. e. black people. Brothers and sisters, there is a place for you in America. This is the King Alfred Plan

Places are being prepared and readied night and day, night and day
The white boy's plan is being readied night and day, night and day
Listen close to what rap say about traps like Allenwood P. A
Already legal in D. C. to preventatively detain you and me
How long you think it's going to be before even our dreams ain't free?
You think I exaggerate? Check out Allenwood P. A
Night and day, night and day, the white boy's scheming night and day
The Jews and Hitler come to mind. They thought the slavery far behind
But white paranoia is here to stay. Check it out. Night and day
What you think about the King Alfred Plan? You ain't heard? Where you been, man?
If I may paraphrase the government notice reads
"Should there at anytime become a clear and present danger initiated by any radical element threatening the operation of the government of the United States of America, members of this radical element shall be transported to detention centers until such time as their threat has been eliminated-code King Alfred"
"Bullshit, " I bet you say. "There ain't no Allenwood P. A. "
And people ain't scheming night and day, night and day, night and day
There will be, without the Motown sound and Thunderbird, wallowing in the echoes of
Malcolm's words, there must be black unity, there must be black unity
For, in the end, unity will be forced upon us, and we upon it and each other
Locked in cages, pants hemmed in, shoulder-to-shoulder, arms outstretched
For a crust of bread, watermelon mirages, an oasis that does not exist
Conjured up by the bubbling stench of unwashed bodies in unsanitary quarters
Concrete and barbed wire, babies screaming, stumbling around
In a mental circle because you never had the courage to be black
Night and day, night and day, blanketed, stifled
A salty taste in your mouth from the blood oozing from cracks and wooly heads
Red pools becoming thicker than syrup slow down your face
Birds matted by the life force sprung loose from wells
Welled deep by the enforcers of mock justice of the red, white, and blue
In the end, unity will be thrust upon us. In the end, unity will be thrust upon us
Night and day, night and day, night and day, night and day
Blackness is calling you now-let us unite because of love instead of hate
Let us unite on our own and not because of barbed-wire death
You dare not ignore the things I say because
Whitey is planning night and day, night and day
Night and day, night and day

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