I face my fear with a fistful of dust
I throw it in his eyes add my spit and then rub
I say “Listen my fear; see who I have become
I’m no longer a slave but a blood-bought son”
Sink to your knees put your hands in the mud
And gather up the guns of this murdered son
The weapons of love that saw death come undone
Was but a bucket full of tears and a fistful of dust
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