Once there was a dreamer, or so they say
Who wished children could hold hands, run, and play
Together on Georgia’s red clay hills
But was that preacher/dreamer’s dream fullfilled?
Over fifty years ago he lived and died
Some might say he failed, though he tried
And though his dream has oft been put to test
Some have seen his vision was the best.
Some pay his vision lip-service, ’tis true
But how you live is decided by you
Hate exists and lives the whole world ’round
But you don’t have to join its clam’rous sound.
You, by your example, can spread the dream
Wherever you are, you can fight upstream
Yes, you can fight the tidal wave of hate
With how you treat your neighbors, small or great.