He had a dream that one day,
His people will have an equal say,
That the blacks can live out the year,
Without persecution or fear.
Martin was a great man,
Who came from God's holy hand,
They shot him down out of fear,
Because his message rang too clear,
His family lost a man who was dear.
It's too bad Martin didn't live to see,
The day when the blacks would be free,
For I think they'll always have the right,
To know how high they want to set their sights.
Martin's son went to his father's killer,
And asked him did you kill my father?
And when Martin's killer had said no,
The seeds of his innocence were sewn.
By Michael Juneau
