Warrior's Blood

Momma, can you tell me, what is my name, is there warrior's blood running through my veins?
I can feel the beat of a distant drum, thick, flowing rivers hold the African sun.
And still my gaze, reflecting clear, my puzzled look, a slave ship? Where?
Drifting fierce upon the sea, they ravage us, they capture me.
They thrust me hard upon the floors, my soul escapes to distant shores.
Our broken bodies pile high, we taste the blood-red moon lit sky.
I long for mamma's warm embrace, her loving smile, her smooth brown face.
The trees that birth our hunters bow, wet blades of grass, I seek to know.
What echoes now from distant lands, once mamma's boy, now beaten man.
For through this unknown world we tread, can't steal my soul, though limbs half dead.
With salty tears that burn my scars, my mamma's gone, but loves not far.
So in my spirit stirs a fire, I lift my head, I cannot tire.
And from the sky she sings my name, there's warriors blood flowing through your veins