Текст пісні
The very soft, slow euphonic rhythm of
The jazz band ripens the atmosphere
And a myriad of screams, shouts and tears
Seem to blend in with the solemn music
Almost as if the horns and drums had a melodious cry in their arms
With a 40 ounce in one hand and a cigarette in the other
To calm my nerves and soothe my soul
Along with the others I gently rock from side to side
As a young brother's casket is brought
From the sanctuary of the church
To the back of a hearse
Where we all begin to prepare for his last dance
His last ride, his last party
The African sisters who nurtured this fine child are having fits
Because at 17 you can't help but think of what he could have been
But today, he's just dead
Another young, misguided, misdirected warrior
Whose life has been sucked from within his breast permanently
Forever, for nothing
The procession has started and the crying has become more intense
And as we move away from the church
The euphonic rhythm has changed
It is no longer soft and sad
It is now raw, happy, in a sense, a little mad
When you throw your hands in the air
And gracefully and emphatically move your
Body in a way that only Africans can
An unpatterned way that's natural to you
And throw the music down in New Orleans
We call that the second line
Our body's language say to this young brother
That this dance is for you
Yes, his last dance
We dance to let your last illusion of us from being happy
As we party past the housing project
This is the last time to see your playground and battlefield
This vicious, brutal, familiar, unkempt but blockness
Where you endured much pain and hurt
Mingled with laughter and love
This is the last time to see the rough, happy, innocent
Nappy-haired little boys on their bikes
Who remind you so much of yourself when you were ten and innocent
The last time to see the old sisters sitting on the porches