Song: Where is the LOVE? By the Black Eyed Peas
Lyrics:
SERMON FOR PEACE
Read by Prof. Gera Miles
What's wrong with the world, mama
People livin' like they ain't got no mamas
I think the whole world addicted to the drama
Only attracted to things that'll bring you trauma
Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin'
In the USA, the big CIA
The Bloods and The Crips and the KKK
But if you only have love for your own race
Then you only leave space to discriminate
And to discriminate only generates hate
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate, yeah
Madness is what you demonstrate
And that's exactly how anger works and operates
Man, you gotta have love just to set it straight
Take control of your mind and meditate
Let your soul gravitate to the love, y'all, y'all
People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek
Father, Father, Father help us
Send some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love
The love, the love
It just ain't the same, always unchanged
New days are strange, is the world insane
If love and peace is so strong
Why are there pieces of love that don't belong
Nations droppin' bombs
Chemical gasses fillin' lungs of little ones
With ongoin' sufferin' as the youth die young
So ask yourself is the lovin' really gone
So I could ask myself really what is goin' wrong
In this world that we livin' in people keep on givin'
in
Makin' wrong decisions, only visions of them dividends
Not respectin' each other, deny thy brother
A war is goin' on but the reason's undercover
The truth is kept secret, it's swept under the rug
If you never know truth then you never know love
Where's the love, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the truth, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the love, y'all
People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek
Father, Father, Father help us
Send some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love
The love, the love
I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder
As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder
Most of us only care about money makin'
Selfishness got us followin' our wrong direction
Wrong information always shown by the media
Negative images is the main criteria
Infecting the young minds faster than bacteria
Kids wanna act like what they see in the cinema
Yo', whatever happened to the values of humanity
Whatever happened to the fairness in equality
Instead in spreading love we spreading animosity
Lack of understanding, leading lives away from unity
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' under
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' down
There's no wonder why sometimes I'm feelin' under
Gotta keep my faith alive till love is found
Now ask yourself
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
That’s all we got is ONE LOVE.
ONE LOVE.
Excerpts from Langston Hughes’ poem, “Cracker Prayer,” read by Prof. Watson
Oh, Lord, help me to get right, do right, be right and die right before I ascend to Thy
sight. Help me to make my peace with Nigras, Lord, because I have hated them all my
life. If I do not go to heaven, Lord, I certainly do not want to go to hell with all them
Nigras down there waiting to meet me. I hear the Devil associates with Nigras, he must
be a Yankee who would not give me protection. Lord, take me to thy Kingdom where I
will not have to associate with a hell full of Nigras. Do you hear me, Lord?
...Lord, Lord, dear Lord, since I did not have a nice old colored mammy in my childhood,
give me one in heaven, Lord. My family were too poor to afford a black mammy for any
of my father's eight children. I were mammyless as a child. Give me a mammy in heaven,
Lord. Also a nice Nigress to polish my golden slippers and keep the dust off my wings.
But, Lord, if there be educated Nigras in heaven, keep them out of my sight. The only
thing I hate worse than an educated Nigra is an integrated one. Do not let me meet no
New York Nigras in heaven, Lord, nor none what ever flirted with the NAACP or
Eleanor Roosevelt. As You is my Father, Lord, lead me not into black pastures, but
deliver me from integration, for Thine is the power to make all men as white as snow.
But I would still know a Nigra even through he were white, by the way he sings, also by
certain other characteristics which I will not go into now because a prayer is no place to
explain everything. But You understand as well as I do, Lord, why a Nigra is something
special.
Lord, could I ask you one question? Did you make Nigras just to bedevil white folks?
Was they put here on earth to be a trial and tribulation to the South? Did You create the
NAACP to add fire to brimstone? You know, Lord, as soon as a Nigra gets an inch he
wants an el. Give him an el, and he wants it ALL. Pretty soon a white man will not be
able to sing "Come to Jesus" without a Nigra wanting to sing along with him. And you
know Nigras can outsing us, Lord.
Lord, You know I think it would be a good idea if You would send Christ down to earth
again. It is about time for the Second Coming, because I don't believe Christ knows what
Nigras is up to in this modern day and age. They is up to devilment, Lord---riding in the
same train coaches with us, setting beside us on busses, sending their little Nigra children
to school with our little white children. Even talking about they do not like to be
segregated in jail no more---that a jail is a public place for which they also pay taxes.
Lord, separate the black taxes from the white taxes, black sheep from white sheep, and
Nigra soldiers from white soldiers before the next war comes around. I do not want my
grandson atomized with no Nigra. Lord, dispatch Christ down here before it is too late.
Great Lord God, Jehovah, Father, send Your Only Begotten Son in a Cloud of Fire to
straighten out this world again and put Nigras back in their places before that last trumpet
sounds. When I get ready to go to Glory, Lord, and put on my white robe and prepare to
step into Thy chariot, I do not want no Nigras lined up telling me the Supreme Court has
decreed integrated seats in the Celestial Chariot, too. If I hear tell of such, Lord, I elect to
stay right here on earth...
Langston Hughes, we love you, appreciate you and thank you for all the love, creativity
and inspiration. We will never forget you or the many gifts you showered upon us.
Hotep.