Wake Up, Get Up

Wake Up, Get Up stop killing yourself

Wake Up; Get Up can’t be no one else

Wake Up, Get Up you think you alone

Wake Up, Get Up you ain’t on your own

Listen, that’s your heartbeat

You’re alive

Blood’s runnin’ through your veins

Life can be same

You think that since you’ve done wrong and won’t forgive yourself

That God has cosigned the madness and damned you to hell

I beg of you to notice the sun, the skies and the birds that fly

I beg of you to notice the earth still spins from day to night

Despite the flood of desolate waters you are still alive

It’s too early in the season for you bow down and die

Why you, why you, Why you, Why you…

Why you hiding

You’ve got something

That only you can give

To this old world

That’s what we want

That’s what we need

That’s what we want

That’s what we need, need

Stop killing yourself

Can’t be no one else

You think you alone

You ain’t on your own

Get Up, Wake up

Get up, Wake up

Wake Up, Get Up

Get Up, Wake Up

You think you alone

You ain’t on your own

Wake Up

Get Up

Wake Up

Get Up

Commentary

Poverty, struggle, trauma, lack of opportunity can render the spirit paralyzed by gripping emotions that keep us from moving forward.  This song and drum serve as a call to the spirit to get up and out of the ruts we find ourselves in and move. 

Faceless in this land of pearls

Still, could almost touch the sky with onyx hands

God given strength to give away

Heavy burdens and a price to pay

No control over visions or dreams

What’s it like to taste and see “Free”?

Leaving consequences

In timeless places        

Only able to truly breathe

In fleeting moments that speak

To the height of human worth

Still, I yearned for those

Feelings that come on so strong

Wanted to act whether right or wrong

In between passed me by long

Cages of negative thought made me wonder

What’s it like to be free

Leaving consequences in timeless places

What’s it like to taste and see “Free”?

Leaving consequences

In timeless places

You are free to dream

You are free to speak

You are free to live and

You are free to dance

You are free to smile

You are free to kiss

You are free to laugh and

You are free to question, why so many times in my life I never felt free to be….

You are free to cry

You are free to act

You are free to disagree

You are free to fight

You are free to kick and scream

You are free to change your dream

You are free to taste and see

You are free to leave consequences

In timeless places

Endless spaces

No more related

No more traces

Taste and see what’s it’s like, what it’s like to be

Free – eee – eeee —eee….

Oo-oh, oh, oh taste and see what it’s like to ….

Don’t let your dream escape

To a harsh and bitter place

Fill up your spirit space

And speak

through qualities we don’t always see

Gone give that sound away

Set your fading light to flame

Your heart’s too big to throw away

create a home

made of gold

So your soul

Can go

Taste and see

And leave consequences

In timeless places

And endless spaces

No more created

No more traces

Taste and See

What it’s like to taste and free

Free

Do it for me…and posterity

Taste and See Free

Commentary

This was the first song that came to me when writing the project.  I had a vision of my grandmother on her deathbed, pleading with me to take advantage of the freedoms I have in this space, since she did not.  What ancestor of the slave trade would want anything different? 

My nature gets in the way, and off the righteous path I just stray

Only to come back in return, for my despair you give me hope

Commentary

This short a cappella meditation is taken from the mental picture of my grandmother sitting at her window (in the projects) listening to the kids play outside her window.  Her meditation time was often taken up by her struggle to balance what God wanted her to be, as opposed to who she was.  When are not careful, self-hatred can mask itself behind religion, causing us to bandy back and forth between a life we beleive to be holy and one that we believe to be unholy and wrong.  In the case of many like my grandmother, when she desired to be her best self, she hated her imperfect self.  She left me with a lesson to love myself wholly – the good, the bad, the ugly,the beautiful, the angry, the silent, the peaceful…etc.  I am grateful.

This turns me on and on

Oooh make me sing my song

You don’t deserve the best of me

You don’t deserve the things I do

You don’t deserve the worst of me

But that’s all I seem to put you through

It’s just me playin’

It’s what I do to pass the time

I’m lying ‘n waiting

Holding tight onto my heart

I don’t want to get serious

About love, Oh no…

Sometimes I’m straight scandalous

About love

Some days I look into the mirror

And I ask myself

What you gonna do with a good thang if it comes along?

No answer I stand up straight and I chide myself

You don’t know what to do with a good thang if it comes along

See what I want is a tasty

Slick mister who’s nasty

A for the moment cutie

Who puts it down so sweetly

One who says they love me

But don’t know how to show me

Leavin’ me feelin’ lonely

It’s just me playin’

It’s what I do to pass the time

I’m lying ‘n waiting

Holding tight onto my heart

Please don’t try to peep my game

You don’t know we ain’t one in the same

Just how I flow don’t run skin deep

I cook, we eat, I freak we sleep

My back and forth will have you on your knees

I don’t want to get serious

About love

(brother you’ll get hurt messin’ with a woman workin’ out her dirt)

Sometimes I’m straight scandalous

About love

Welcome to my playground

Ring around the rosie

Pocket’s full of

Junk in my trunk

Slithering words

Wrapped around your ego like a little girl

Ring around the rosie

I bet you can’t catch me

Tag you’re in

I’ll say when

I don’t wanna get serious

(Cuz what I want is a tasty)

About love

(Slick Mister whose nasty)

Sometimes I’m straight scandalous

(One who says they love me)

About love

(But don’t know how to show me…playin’)

It’s just me playin’

It’s what I do to pass the time

I’m lying ‘n waiting

Holding tight on to my

Life taught me to guard my

I’ve been hurt too many times

Now I’m holding onto my heart

This turns me on and on…

Commentary

Can we ever figure out why some beautiful women prefer to play around with the “charismatic bad boy” who continually breaks her heart?  Here’s my granmother’s confession.  Simply put, it turned her on.  Sadly, it also kept her from fully experiencing an healthy, intimate, and fulfilling relationship with her husband.  Either way, for what yearnings we bear on the inside, we will always pay a price for the choices we make.  I trust she enjoyed her moments playin’. 

Music makes me move that

Universal Language make me flow like that

The drums, the shakers the bass, piano man make me go like that

Don’t tell me, I wasn’t born to dance

Summer heat make me (go like that flow like that)

Jimbe beat make me

Got these (curves in my body) so I’ll move

Don’t tell me I wasn’t made to groove

What’s it like

To soar through trees

And what’s it like

Lifted and standin’ on the breeze

And what’s it like

To float through the seasons

When you’re born to dance

A young girl

I felt the movement

On me

Instead I had to do a white gal’s laundry

Wanted to sway

(Shake oppression) up off me, baby

I was born to dance

Life got hard money was real funny

Soul got hungry so, I took what was good to me

Went upside a few heads

Spread my arms and my legs

There go my babies

How I wish they could’ve seen me swing

Through two room apartment like I had new wings

Every night when I put all of ‘ em down to sleep

That’s when I knew that I could ride the breeze

Hips, make ‘em pop like that

Snakin’ in my belly movin’ front to back

Arms in the air, take it down like – WOW

Yeah that’s me born to throw down

Party down the block late on Friday

It’s me up in the house, gon get out ma way

I’m a cutta rug, jitter bug, make everyone say

That Girl, right there, she know she could sway

Can’t forget about Sunday mornin’s trance

Preachin’ getting good break into my dance

Two-step shout that’ll put holy rollers to shame

That’s cuz I know that I know that I know what

He’s done for me

Somewhere along the distant shores of Africa

was born a conduit,

whose limbs were ordained to guide the last of her

generations, generations, generations

Now’s the time, the Lord sees fit to free me

Look up Look up honey child

Can’t you see me

Beside one of those stars

In my new brown body

Left toe pointed to the south

Right finger pointed to the east

My soul’s dancin’, essence swingin’, spirit movin’, my heart’s changin’, can’t stop changin’, my heart’s movin, I feel it down in my core…repeat…

Makes me move like that!!!! 

Commentary

Rena was a dancer.  According to her, she danced well and danced hard.  At parties, she and her cousin drew much attention for their skill.  But Rena stopped dancing at parties…And when she stopped expressing herself in this manner (for the sake of what she believed was holy), she lost something (not much, though, since her children remember her ‘holy shout dance’ something to see.  All of her moves, albeit religious, street partying, or erotic hip action came back just before she transitioned from this life,when she told me to keep dancing.  She said when the spirit hits, just start moving…and don’t stop until you feel like it.  I really enjoyed recording this! I danced the entire time.

Last night I was in a fight with my honey

Makin’ rounds at the club, he spent up all of our money

And even though I’m his lawfully wedded baby

Tonight, I wanna feel how much another brother wants me

And it’s makin’ me say

Mmmmmmm (hear that moan)

Heeeey (she be callin’ for her daddy)

Take me……..(midnight at the age of 3)

Home………(but he f’ckin’ another lady)

Reach out to me, Cuz now we here

Grab hold of all you see

Have no fear….

Spoken:

If you think I’m here because your game is tight, I’m not

(I say about your game, I think it’s kinda lame)

Check your ego at the door, I’m here to sweeten the pain in my pot

(whatchoo know about my pain, know about my pain)

It sounds kinda sad, but right now you all the hope I got

(you all the hope I got, that ain’t sayin’ a lot)…So…

You got one night to be my man, so show me what you got

(show me what you got)

End Spoken

That’s gonna make me say…

Ooooohhhh (freak me)

cuuuuz I’m feelin’ (kinda kinky)

Maaaaake (put that body rock on me)

Me me me  me me cum please

It’s so dark and we makin’ sounds….moanin’and groanin’cuz we….getting’ down….and I ain’t

Thinkin’ bout God – the one who created me, engineered this circumstance, so you have your way with me (His holiness escapes me)

Ain’t thinkin’ bout Jesus – Don’t say to me, greater love hath no man than the one who chose to lay down his life for me (I’m hopin’ His grace covers me)

Brother this ain’t about you – neither me or you, can fathom the woman in me, boo (I don’t care if you respect me)

No, it ain’t about you - hate my hair bruise my skin, cripple me from within, like hiiiimmm!!(it’s about that White Man who raped me)

Feelin’ the pleasure down in my bones/Violated my body – MR. STRONG MAN

Tryin’ to recover all on my own/Knocked my spirit out of synch with me

Puttin’ it together with every groan/ Spend the rest of my life tryin’ to be complete

Like right now

Sex in the dark ain’t like sex in the park, it ain’t like sex on the beach, it ain’t like sex on the sneak, it’s alright …ah na na, ah na na, ah na na, ah na na, oo ee…repeat…..

Woe, Woe, Woe….

Commentary

I is not Rena’s, and neither mine, nor any other woman’s best moment in life – when we don’t fully recognize that the expression of our sexuality is locked behind past instances/traumatic memories that produced inner pain, low self-esteem, shame and confusion.  And that when we have the opportunity to experience intimacy with another, it simultaneously (sometimes selfishly) becomes an opportunity to  seek healing for the self.  While having “Sex In The Dark” , some partners may not be aware of what might be going on in the mind, heart, and womb of a woman violated and scorned at an early age.  The overlapping voices in this song attempts to bring them to light.  These lyrics are designed for conversation…to the end that the listener might experience healing and more open, honest, and rewarding erotic and sexual exchanges with others.

It is no longer hushed… that,  at least one time in her life, my beautiful grandmother suffered through her choice to trade sex for money.  Subsequently, until her time of transition, her spirit was cloaked in shame.   Drawing its power from America’s hypocritical and oppressive societal standards, she debased and criticized her actions as low.  The sad truth is that this system we worship was designed to fail her from the moment she was born a poor black woman in the early 1920’s.  And let’s face it, not many women can say they know exactly what they would do while staring 11 hungry children in the eyes… no hope in sight.  I know I can’t.  In this same light, another woman who sells her sexuality to the world in the form of entertainment and suggestion might be respected by mainstream America.  I ask which is more honorable, the hungry woman who uses sex to feed her children or the seductive starlet who makes a “legitimate” living doing the same?

 I refuse to judge.  But, what I can say is that rather than view my grandmother’s decision as a source of shame, I ‘made it beautiful’.  Instead of accusing a scarlet woman, I choose to honor the strength in Rena – since she was committed to the pulling through and continuation of her family.    She cried inside, ‘he might have my body’, ‘but…, her soul contended … never my spirit’.   Yet, not one other person attended to it until now.  Torn and fragmented, the Afrikan Slave Holocaust perpetuated this along with other adaptive behaviors that can be changed with truth and honesty.  For me, her wailing found its way into my artistic space, inspiring my latest album release “Rena’s Moan”.   And for that, I am grateful.  Please check out the video, which features the ending of the tribute song “Eye Candy” – as I shared these sentiments during her moment of sacrifice… proving to the world why the value of a black woman’s voice has a worth beyond all prices.  Our resiliency and knack for survival are as much a mystery as the earth itself. 

Bless,

InnaRae

www.innarae.com

Lead Lyrics:

How did I get in this business of?  Thinkin’ what’s most important is how a man sees me, rather than please me?

Pretty face and round breasts, tight ass, low on real cash.  Got kids lookin’ at me, rubbin’ their mouths and their bellies.  What to do if we go hungry?  That will not happen to me.  I pray, but the answer don’t come my way. I think it’s time for me to get in the game.  I know I’m pretty.  I know he got needs.  I’ll make that money.  My babies will eat.  I’m eye candy.  Makin’ him think he could have me.  I’m eye candy, like on the cover of a magazine.

Play me boy. I’m hustlin’.  Oui, Cheri, Gallery.

How did I get in this business of?  Thinkin’ what’s most important is how a man sees me, rather than please me?

I’m just teasin’ you baby.  You might have my body, but my soul and spirit live…

Sisters have you ever compared yourself to the motherland?  Shortly before capitalism laid down its ugly hand?  He saw my riches ripe. Diamonds shining in the night, I knew what God had made, he wanted to get paid.  Organized a sea of drills excavating my brown hills of righteousness and told that I’m less than… commerce corporate music singing songs that say.  Body became my soul bought for ten pieces of gold.  Something I already own.

I know that my lips were made to speak words of hope to those who can hear me.  I know that my breasts milk nurturing streams sustaining life that grows inside me.  I know that my legs were made for me to walk in places I never dreamed.  I know that my soul comes from civilized nations that crown me queen.  But that ain’t my reality.  I’m in America the land of the free.  Capitalizing on what’s inside me that makes me believe I’m eye candy.  Want a man to pay for the thought that he could have me.  I’m eye candy, like on the cover of a magazine.

How did I get in this business of, thinkin’ what’s most important is how a man sees me, rather than please me?  Eye Candy.

 So rich, yet rooted in a western form of poverty while illusions of material success lie at my feet.  What ya’ll know about that?

No food in stock, don’t know where the next meal is coming from, but for the moment that battle’s won.  Come on, let’s eat. 

Unfulfilled African male promises to chisel chains of false hope, but he forgot we came over here and still live in the same boat.

Layin’ down dreams and quenching the spirit for the sake of your children and their children and their children’s children…legacy that’s where it’s at.

Eye candy.  Hard times got me.  Thinkin’ what’s most important is, how a man… sees me, rather than …please me.  Please understand…that…ain’t all…i am.

Commentary:

This song speaks for itself.  Against the subject of another song on the album titled Sex in the Dark it wraps up a two-sided legend regarding the birth one of my aunts.  Some in the family speak of a rape.  Others speak of a need to pay the bills.  Since we’ll never know the truth, I felt it necessary to honor both stories.  Whatever the case, many women forced to use their bodies to survive and feed their children deserve to be heard.  I don’t see it as a mark of shame, but one of strength, character, and sacrifice. 

The spoken pieces in this work focus on the true nature of the African woman—regardless of what she feels forced to makes of herself to survive in America.  It speaks of her place of origin, her highly regarded status, her dreams.  These things never die.  These things are priceless.