Pushed to the side
and always passed by
I do the deeds
that are whipped out of me
You can not stand up
You can not say no
Just bow your head and say, yes sir
You do not think
You do not feel
They make an animal out of me.

My feet are sore from all the work
The bus my ticket home
The putrid smell of working mens sweat hangs in the air
The pain of my feet throbs
The fault is mine
when I refuse to stand
for one rich snob to sit
I stand my ground by sitting
where others stand and cry at the pain
The pain of my feet throbs.

No longer can the pain touch my feet,
No longer can it hold me there,
A free woman is who I am today
MLK is the shepherd of the flock,
with his strong word we are set free.
No longer will they make an animal out of me.