Whitney is gone Everybody assumes but no one knows I just would say she is no more To sing the love of self so sweetly So richly So full of natural delicacy You could almost believe We know who we are Almost believe we are healed But I knew that when a soul Brings a song from such a depth It is not for expression alone It cannot be For there is nothing yet to express While we still search for who we are So Whitney left us In so much sorrow and sadness Gone without finding it Gone without knowing it Her search was a melody come to an end Whitney is gone, And no one crying now was ever her friend. All Whitney had was her fame Her voice was a sort of wealth that could give her anything It got cracked too Dumped her in a bag of blues And could not even sing the not for pain again. When it happens like that You just want more of the anesthesia You just do not want to know the difference Between day and night Or black and white For there is no hossanah left in that color line They do not care that you are dying Seem not to understand For all their demand and their love is about self We are not predators We have no power to fight the living to its death We make our living off the dead That is what we have been marginalized to become Since the ships sail away from the soul What we are, since we were torn up and uprooted And lost our roots and family You would think our preachers would find some language To connnect us again, Instead we watch myysteriouusly the silence Of Whitney passing Into the night, while that jive choir remain And Africa bleached from their brain That is the beginning of ouur death It is how Michael Jackson, Bob Marley And those who sang without a name It is how we are all dying in, like we are Invisible, crawling in the filth of his-story O no, not me I want Whitney to sing the way brother Tupac did He died like a soldier, hating it to the end