10.000 Cartas de Amor y Resistencia para Sara Quinonez y Tulia Maris!

#SarayTuliaLibresYa!

UPDATE!!!!

¡Escribamos 10.000 Cartas de Amor y Resistencia para

Sara Quinonez y Doña Tulia Maris!

– English and French versions below! –

Biografias:

Tulia Maris Valencia  

Sara Liliana Quiñonez

Envia tu carta para Sara y Tulia Maris aquí

Nuestras hermanas Tulia Maris Valencia y Sara Liliana Quiñonez son nacidas en el Consejo Comunitario Alto Mira y Frontera, ubicado en el municipio de Tumaco en el pacifico sur Colombiano.
Desde el 2014 nuestras hermanas han resistido amenazas, señalamientos y hostigamientos direccionados por intereses y sectores detrás de los monocultivos de la palma aceitera y la hoja de coca, intereses del narcotráfico y sus redes, e intereses de quienes buscan apropiarse de las instituciones propias de gobierno afrodescendiente.
Ya Sara como Doña Tulia Maris nos habían dicho que: “es necesaria la destrucción de los lazos familiares y comunitarios, de nuestra gobernabilidad, del olvido de las practicas ancestrales para la siembra y el cuidado de la vida para que esos intereses puedan imponerse y permanecer”. Esos intereses estuvieron detrás del asesinato de nuestros hermanos Genaro Garcia y Jair Cortez, que también estuvieron como Sara, en la presidencia del Consejo Comunitario. Por eso no hubo más opción para nuestras hermanas que salir desplazadas para preservar sus vidas y la de sus familias.
Y, en lugar de obtener respuesta sobre como operan estos intereses y porque siguen amenazando y asesinando en territorios afrodescedientes, de proteger las vidas de nuestras hermanas, las instituciones competentes como la Fiscalía General de la Nación, la fuerza pública, las acusan de rebelión, concierto para delinquir con fines de narcotráfico sumándose por omisión, y con impunidad a los fines de los intereses que las quieren silenciadas o muertas.
Actualmente nuestras hermanas esperan la apelación a la medida de privación de libertad porque fueron señaladas de ser peligrosas para la sociedad. Actualmente están silenciadas en la Cárcel de máxima seguridad en Jamundi (Valle del Cauca).
Este 20 de Julio Colombia conmemora el aniversario 208 del primer grito de independencia de España. De los 199 años de vida republicana le ha tomado 172 años reconocer -en el papel-, nuestros aportes como pueblo negro a esa conquista. Sin embargo hoy día la estructura racial de las instituciones que integran las ramas del poder público impiden la concreción de nuestros derechos a la autodeterminación y al gobierno propio.
Este 20 de julio también se cumplen dolorosamente 180 días de confinamiento de nuestras hermanas, 180 días de aislamiento de su vida familiar y comunitaria. Son 180 días de castigo a su liderazgo y participación en instituciones de gobierno propio, 180 días donde las redes y carteles de la impunidad buscan debilitar sus espíritus.
Es por ello que, para para cuidar de sus espíritus, para cuidar de sus corazones, para decirles que no están solas, que les estamos convocando a que les escribamos y que, a través de las palabras, las alcancen nuestros sentimientos y pensamientos de fortaleza y persistencia en este compromiso nuestro de hacer real para la Vida toda la justicia, la libertad y la alegría.
Alleguemosles 10.000 motivos de resistencia, 10.000 cartas de amor juntas y juntos en la defensa y cuidado de la Vida y lo que la hace comunitaria y colectiva. Juntas y juntos en la construcción de instituciones para la justicia social, ambiental y económica, donde todos los principios constitucionales  sean en la practica, sobre todo la protección al ejercicio de los derechos a la autodeterminación y nuestra opción propia de presente y futuro.

Invitamos a todas las organizaciones, cuidadoras y cuidadores de la vida, defensoras y defensores de derecho humanos, de los derechos de la naturaleza que envíen sus cartas al correo:

saraytulialibresya@gmail.com

Por favor indicar en la carta:

-Lugar desde donde se le escribe,
-Mensaje amor y resistencia
-Firma con nombre de la persona y/o organización
-Su consentimiento o no para hacerla publica.

Pronunciamiento inicial Proceso de Comunidades Negras.

Proceso de Comunidades Negras- #SarayTuliaMarisLibresYa   – Julio 2018

ENGLISH VERSION

Let’s Write 10,000 Letters of Love and Resistance to Sara and Tulia Maris!

Our sisters Tulia Maris Valencia and Sara Liliana Quiñonez were born in the Afro-Colombian Community Council of Alto Mira and Frontera in the municipality of Tumaco on the southern Pacific coast of Colombia.

Since 2014, our sisters have resisted death threats, smear campaigns, and attacks directed by the forces behind oil palm and coca monocultures, drug traffickers and affiliated networks, and others interested in appropriating the autonomous institutions of Afro-descendant governance.

Sara and Doña Tulia Maris already told us that: “in order to impose those interests, it is necessary to destroy our family and community ties; our form of governance; to forget our ancestral practices of farming and the care of life.” Those same interests were behind the murders of our brothers Genaro García and Jair Cortez, who – like Sara – presided over the Community Council of Alto Mira and Frontera. That is why our sisters had no other option but to leave their territory in order to save their own lives and the lives of their family members.

Instead of receiving a just response about how and why these interests continue to threaten and murder in Afro-descendent territories, the Attorney General’s Office and the military falsely accuse our sisters of sedition (rebelión) and conspiracy to commit a crime related to narcotics trafficking. Meanwhile, there is impunity for the interests that want to silence or murder them.

Our sisters are currently deprived of their freedom as they await an appeal because they were designated as dangerous for society. They are being silenced in the Maximum Security Prison of Jamundi (Valle del Cauca).

This July 20, Colombia will commemorate its 208th anniversary of independence from Spain. It took 172 years for the republic to recognize – on paper – our contributions as black peoples to that achievement. Today, however, the racist structure of the branches of state poser impedes our rights to self-determination and self-government.

This July 20 also painfully corresponds with 180 days of the confinement of our sisters. 180 days of isolation from their family and community life. 180 days of punishment for their leadership and participation in institutions of self-government. 180 days where the networks and cartels of impunity attempt to debilitate their spirit.

That is why we invite you to tend to their spirits and hearts by letting them know that they are not alone. We call on you to write letters to them. Through our words, our feelings and thoughts of strength and persistence can reach them, as well as our commitment to making justice, freedom, and joy a reality for Life.

Let’s send them 10,000 reasons for resistance—10,000 letters of love in the defense and care of life and everything that makes it communal and collective. Together, in creating institutions of social, environmental, and economic justice, wherein all the constitutional principles are practiced, especially  the protection of the rights to exercise self-determination and a present and future of our own choosing.

We invite all of the organizations, caregivers of life, human rights defenders, and defenders of nature to send letters to this e-mail address:

saraytulialibresya@gmail.com

Please include the following in the letter:

-Location from where the letter is sent

-A message of love and resistance

-Signature with the name of the person and/or organization

-Your consent (or not) to make it public

 

FRENCH VERSION

On va écrit 10,000 lettres d’amour et de résistance à Sara et Tulia Maris!

 

Nos sœurs Tulia Maris Valencia et Sara Liliana Quiñonez sont nées dans le Conseil Communautaire Afro – Colombien d’Alto Mira et Frontera dans la municipalité de Tumaco sur la côte du pacifique du sud de la Colombie.

Depuis 2014, nos sœurs résistées aux menaces de mort, des campagnes de diffamation et des attaques adressées par les forces derrière la paume pétrolière et des monocultures de coca, des narcotrafiquants et réseaux affiliés ainsi que d’autres intéressés par approprier les institutions autonomes de gouvernance d’Afro-descendant peuple.

Sara et Doña Tulia Maris nous a déjà dit que : “pour imposer ces intérêts, il est nécessaire de détruire nos liens familiaux et communautaires ; notre forme de gouvernance ; oublier nos pratiques héréditaires d’agriculture et le soin de vie.” Ces mêmes intérêts étaient derrière les meurtres de nos frères Genaro García et Jair Cortez, qui – comme Sara – ils ont présidé le Conseil Communautaire d’Alto Mira et Frontera. C’est pourquoi nos sœurs n’avaient aucune autre option, mais laisser leur territoire pour sauver leurs propres vies et les vies de leurs membres de son famille.

Au lieu de recevoir une juste réponse de comme et pourquoi ces intérêts continuent à menacer et assassiner dans des territoires d’Afro-descendant peuple, le Bureau du Procureur Général et l’armée accusent faussement nos sœurs de sédition (rebelión) et conspiration pour commettre un crime lié au trafic de narcotiques. En attendant, il y a une impunité pour les intérêts qui veulent au silence ou les assassinent.

Nos sœurs sont actuellement privées de leur liberté pendant que ils attendent un appel parce qu’ils ont été désignés comme dangereux pour la société. Elles sont réduites au silence dans la prison de haute sécurité de Jamundi (Valle del Cauca).

Ce 20 juillet, la Colombie commémorera son 208ème anniversaire d’indépendance de l’Espagne. Il a pris 172 ans pour la république pour reconnaître – sur le papier – nos contributions comme des peuples noirs à cet accomplissement. Aujourd’hui, cependant, la structure raciste des branches de pouvoir d’état empêche nos droits à l’autodétermination et l’autonomie.

Ce 20 juillet correspond aussi déplorablement avec 180 jours de l’emprisonnement de nos sœurs. 180 jours d’isolement de leur famille et vie associative. 180 jours de punition pour leur leadership et participation dans les institutions d’autonomie. 180 jours où les réseaux et les cartels d’impunité essayent de débiliter leur esprit.

C’est pourquoi nous vous invitons à ouvrir vos cœurs et esprits en les faisant savoir qu’ils ne sont pas seuls. Nous vous invitons à leur écrire des lettres. Par nos mots, nos sentiments et pensées de force et persistance nous pouvons être avec eux à distance, aussi bien que notre engagement à faire de la justice, la liberté et la joie une réalité pour la vie.

Envoyons-leur 10,000 raisons à la résistance – 10,000 lettres d’amour dans la défense et le soin de vie et tout qui le rend commun et collectif. Ensemble, dans la création des institutions de justice sociale, environnementale et économique, où tous les principes constitutionnels sont pratiqués, particulièrement la protection des droits pour exercer l’autodétermination et un présent et futur de notre propre choix.

Nous invitons toutes les organisations, soignants de vie, des défenseurs de droits de l’homme et les défenseurs de nature à envoyer des lettres à cette adresse électronique :saraytulialibresya@gmail.com

Incluez s’il vous plaît l’information suivante dans la lettre :

-Lieu d’où la lettre est envoyée.
-A message d’amour et résistance.
-Signature avec le nom de la personne et/ou de l’organisation.
-Votre consentement (ou pas) pour le faire public.

 

 

 

 

LACSN Annual Party: Food, Music, Dancing and of course, REVOLUTION!

Year End Rumba!

 

When injustice is in sight,
to fight against it is a right,
on December 8th,
we celebrate that fight.

Come and join LACSN and all its member organizations to celebrate the work that we did throughout 2018, and as we prepare to face 2019, we’ll be posting all the different actions, petitions and events that LACSN was part of this year.

FACEBOOK

 

 

Saturday, December 8, 2018 at 7 PM – 2 AM

Toronto Education Workers / Local 4400

1482 Bathurst St., Toronto, Ontario M5P 3H1

 

 

Join us to celebrate!

Inside the Corruption and Repression Forcing Hondurans to Flee to the US

by Peter Tinti   –  VICE.COM

Oct 26 2018, 12:00am

 

Nineteen-year-old taxi driver Diego is not interested in politics. But his hometown of El Progreso—a transit hub in central Honduras, where everyone seems to have a friend or relative who has “gone north” to the US—has long been a hotbed of popular resistance. In 1954, workers here launched a 69-day strike that challenged the United Fruit Company and briefly brought the country to a political and economic standstill.

In November 2017, it was allegations of fraud in the country’s recent presidential election that drew demonstrators to the streets. On one of those days, Diego dropped a passenger near where anti-government protests were slated to take place. He had been driving his taxi all morning and decided to take a break and check out the action nearby. Moments after he got out of his car, Diego found himself in the path of a phalanx of Honduran security forces marching through a cloud of tear gas. Before he could process what was going on, they began firing live rounds into the crowd. A bullet struck Diego’s lower leg as he ran away. (VICE has changed names and certain details to protect the identities of Diego and his family.)

Diego’s older brother Raúl was participating in the protests, and took Diego to the hospital, where they found medical staff overwhelmed by an influx of people in need of emergency care. As they waited outside, a police patrol arrived and began accusing injured protestors of being gang members. “They tried to drag us into their cars and threatened to take the phones of anyone who tried to film them,” explained Raúl. It was only after doctors intervened that the police relented. “I don’t think they would have taken us to jail. I think we would have disappeared,” he continued. “That’s how they silence you.”

“They,” in this case, are the security forces that answer to Honduran President Juan Orlando Hernández, an impeccably coiffed Latin American politician straight out of central casting. His pro-business, World Bank and International Monetary Fund–approved vision for Honduras, combined with his preference for a militarized approach to the war on drugs, has made him a favorite within certain US policy circles. The country has received more than $70 million in security assistance from the US since his election in 2014, according to data collected by the Center for International Policy. When President Donald Trump’s current chief of staff, John Kelly, served as head of the US military’s Southern Command during the Obama administration, he praised Hernández for his record on human rights, anti-corruption, and tackling drug trafficking.

Human rights and anti-corruption groups have documented just the opposite. The organization Human Rights Watch, for example, describes Honduras under Hernández as a place where “impunity for crime and human rights abuses is the norm.” A two-year investigation by watchdog group Global Witness concluded that Honduras is the deadliest country in the world for environmental activists, writing in 2017, “Nowhere are you more likely to be killed for standing up to companies that grab land and trash the environment than in Honduras.” Even the normally measured Carnegie Endowment for International Peace has gone so far as to label Honduras a country where “corruption is the operating system” and “repression is carefully targeted for maximum psychological effect.”

Several members of Hernández’s National Party, including the son of his like-minded predecessor, have been implicated in drug trafficking. Last year, a leader of the Cachiros, a drug cartel that specialized in transporting Colombian cocaine through Honduras, testified in a New York court that Hernández’s brother was directly involved in their operations.

That deadly political climate has contributed to anti-government protests, as well as the decision by at least 350,000 Hondurans in the last ten years—including at least 52,000 unaccompanied minors in the last five—to make the perilous journey through Guatemala and Mexico in order to reach the US. Those numbers are conservative estimates provided to VICE by Stephanie Leutert, the director of the Mexico Security Initiative at the University of Texas, who tracks migration trends in the region.

Among those who have left are Hondurans in the caravan of a few thousand migrants currently making their way through Mexico to the US border, enduring brutal conditions and suffering under rain and hot sun with little protection. “It’s even worse in Honduras,” one mother of four in the caravan told VICE News earlier this week.

Much of the narrative about why so many Hondurans risk everything to migrate focuses on astronomical homicide rates and gang violence perpetrated by groups like Mara Salvatrucha, known as MS-13, and a similar gang called Barrio 18. While those arriving in the US are indeed often fleeing gang activity, and young people deported back to Honduras do risk forced recruitment or becoming victims, gang violence is only one part of the broader system that drives people to leave their homes.

Interviews in Honduras with close to 40 human rights and environmental activists, lawyers, opposition leaders, citizens in hiding, and friends and family of those who have disappeared or been assassinated tell a much more complicated, disquieting story of why people leave. In the last nine years, Honduras has morphed into something that defies neat categorization: a narco-kleptocracy of sorts, operating under the guise of privatization and deregulation, where politicians, business elites, and organized crime oversee a system of governance predicated on corruption, violence, and impunity in order to enrich themselves and terrorize their opponents.

And at almost every turn, this system has been enabled and at times encouraged by the US government.

In the run-up to the November 2017 presidential election, few thought that Salvador Nasralla, a sportscaster and TV personality tapped by a coalition of opposition parties to run under the banner of anti-corruption, could pose a serious challenge to Hernández. Yet early returns on election day, November 26, indicated that he was poised to pull off the upset.

When Nasralla appeared to be pulling away, holding a 5 percent lead with 70 percent of the vote reported, the country’s electoral commission, mostly staffed by Hernández appointees, decided to stop broadcasting the tabulations altogether.

A 36-hour blackout of voting results ensued, and amid the controversy Honduran security forces resorted to tear gas, live ammunition, and arrests to crack down on protestors and impose a curfew. José Luis Ortiz had never been involved in politics before because “they are all equally corrupt,” but he was one of the tens of thousands of Hondurans who took to the streets to protest. “We knew they wanted to steal the elections and they did,” Ortiz explained from the courtyard of his family home in El Progreso. “That’s why I decided to protest, out of conviction.” At the end of that evening, Ortiz would find himself fighting for his life in an emergency room after Honduran security forces fired a tear gas canister into his face from a distance of less than ten feet.

When publication of the results resumed and as votes continued to trickle in, it was Hernández who suddenly—and improbably, according to local and outside experts—held a slim but insurmountable lead.

The election commission declared Hernández the winner. The opposition cried foul. Election monitors from the European Union and Organization for American States (OAS) identified several irregularities, the latter calling for new elections, citing “deliberate human intrusions in the computer system” and clear indications of vote tampering.

In the weeks that followed, the Committee for the Relatives of the Disappeared, a human rights organization known by its Spanish acronym COFADEH, documented a major uptick in political violence: 30 assassinations, 232 wounded or injured, and over 1,085 detained, in addition to people who had been displaced, gone into hiding, or disappeared.

When I met with Diego and Raúl in their family home in February, Diego was still in a cast so that his torn tendons and bone fractures could heal. He sat despondent and clearly traumatized, only muttering a few words. His grandmother said they have not filed a formal complaint with the government. “We are too scared because the repercussions will come,” she said.

According to Raúl, the only option is for the family save several thousand dollars to hire a coyote—a smuggler—to take Diego to the US. “He can’t stay here. The police have all his information,” he explained. “So, we are just waiting for him to recover and to get him out of the country as soon as possible.” Hopefully Diego can make his way to Tennessee, where their mother has been living as an undocumented immigrant for eight years.

Applying for asylum while still in Honduras, the family says, is not a viable option. “The formal processes take too long and it is too dangerous to wait. That’s the reality,” Raúl said, explaining that collecting evidence to prove they are at risk is too dangerous as it would likely draw the attention of the authorities. As Raúl offered his thoughts on the situation, a local lawyer who wanted to hear the family’s story nodded along, providing unspoken acknowledgement that Raúl’s assessment is spot on.

“We can’t see any way out other than going illegally,” Raúl concluded.

Despite the widespread allegations of fraud and calls for a new vote, the US State Department decided to recognize Hernández as the winner of the 2017 election, even as it acknowledged the irregularities identified by the EU and OAS. For human rights activists who have been systemically targeted throughout the Hernández presidency, the US endorsement was a predictable, if demoralizing, outcome.

“If this had happened in Venezuela, there would have been an intervention. But because it happened in Honduras, a country of servitude to their [US] interests, they say, ‘Well, you know, there were irregularities, but these things happen,’” said Bertha Isabel Zúñiga Cáceres.

Zúñiga Cáceres’s mother, the world-renowned environmental activist Berta Cáceres, was assassinated two years ago inside her home. A team of international lawyers concluded that state agents and high-ranking business executives were involved in the planning, execution, and subsequent coverup of her murder, but two and a half years and several delays later, those accused of her murder have yet to face trial.

“They [the US] want to keep a stability that is actually nonexistent in this country,” Zúñiga Cáceres said from the small office in the town of La Esperanza, where she carries on her mother’s legacy of environmental activism.

For Salvador Nasralla, who went to bed on election night believing he could be the next president of Honduras, the motives behind US support for Hernández are obvious.

“They know that Juan Orlando Hernández is a bad guy,” Nasralla said, a day after a previous interview was cut short amid tear gas en route to the stadium where Hernández was being sworn in for his second term. “He is a person who abides by the US because the United States keeps a tight grip on him. So, the US uses the old logic: This man is a bad guy, but he is our bad guy.”

From sponsoring coups on behalf of US business interests in the first half of the 20th century to funding proxy wars and death squads during the Cold War, the United States has worked with its fair share of anti-democratic forces in Central America. And while the justification and rationale behind US involvement in the region are still widely debated in policy circles, few could deny that the current trajectory of Honduras is inextricably linked to US foreign policy.

When Bertha Oliva helped found the aforementioned COFADEH in the 1980s, it was in response to 182 persons who had been forcibly “disappeared” by the Honduran military between 1980 and 1982. Among those who disappeared was her husband, Tomás Nativí, who spoke out against the US-supported military government.

Nativí also denounced the presence of US military forces in Honduras, who used the country in the 1980s as a staging ground from which it could coordinate its efforts to combat left-wing insurgencies throughout the region. Even today, Honduras remains a country where, to quote State Department official Tom Shannon, writing in a 2009 diplomatic cable urging a coordinated US response to the coup, the US has “big military equities.”

Oliva has been fighting for human rights, and receiving death threats and harassment because of it, ever since she started seeking justice for her husband’s disappearance. Her life’s work is, in many ways, devoted to documenting the repercussions of US interventions that she said “linger and haven’t left.”

Even MS-13, which the Trump administration constantly cites as a reason to block Central American asylum seekers from entering the US, is an American export. Journalists who have studied the group closely, such as Óscar Martinez and Iaon Grillo, trace MS-13’s roots to Los Angeles in the 1970s, when immigrant teens from El Salvador, trying to carve out their own identity among other immigrant populations, began smoking weed and listening to rock music together. The group transformed into a criminal outfit in the 1980s amid an influx of Salvadoran immigrants fleeing a brutal civil war between the US-backed Salvadoran military government and a coalition of left-wing guerrillas.

Although a parallel MS-13 presence existed in El Salvador, it was only until the 1996 Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act, which resulted in the deportation from the US of tens of thousands of documented and undocumented immigrants with criminal records, that MS-13 and Barrio 18 became international phenomena, spreading to other countries in Central America, including Honduras.

In 2006, Hondurans elected Manuel “Mel” Zelaya president. Despite being elected as the candidate of the center-right Liberal Party, he embarked upon an ambitious and unapologetically progressive agenda while in office. He raised the minimum wage, increased subsidies to farmers, guaranteed free schooling to Honduran children, and expanded access to healthcare. Although his administration stood accused of corruption and mismanagement of public funds, Zelaya’s poverty reduction programs represented a glimmer of hope for many Hondurans who had been on the on the losing end of the privatization and structural adjustment policies that had defined the previous two decades.

Zelaya’s leftward turn drew the ire of Honduran business elites, and his decision to join the Venezuelan-led Petrocaribe oil alliance—along with suggestions that the US military presence be reconsidered—spooked the Latin American right and its North American allies. His presidency was cut short when the Honduran military showed up at the presidential palace one morning, arrested him, and flew him to neighboring Costa Rica, stopping to refuel at the Soto Cano air base, where 600 US troops were stationed. The military tried to justify the kidnapping and forced exile of its own president by claiming that Zelaya was planning to change the Honduran constitution to run for a second term.

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/yw98nm/inside-the-corruption-and-repression-forcing-hondurans-to-flee-to-the-us?eId=22ede269-e71d-4768-ba9e-f2b8c90ff37e&eType=EmailBlastContent&fbclid=IwAR1jopLmOA0VFVa7omGGcz2h5hOoHegQTI0KYjbj9_OfaSC69LYGfYQlMVQ&utm_campaign=sharebutton

None of us are free, if one of us is chained!

By Solomon Burke

 

And there are people still in darkness,
And they just can’t see the light.
If you don’t say it’s wrong then that says it right.
We got try to feel for each other, let our brother’s know that we care.
Got to get the message, send it out loud and clear!

http://www.informationclearinghouse.info/article8199.htm
Well you better listen my sister’s and brothers,
‘Cause if you do you can hear
There are voices still calling across the years.
And they’re all crying across the ocean,
And they’re cryin across the land,
And they will till we all come to understand.
None of us are free.
None of us are free.
None of us are free, if one of us are chained.
None of us are free.
And there are people still in darkness,
And they just can’t see the light.
If you don’t say it’s wrong then that says it right.
We got try to feel for each other, let our brother’s know that we care.
Got to get the message, send it out loud and clear.
None of us are free.
None of us are free.
None of us are free, if one of us are chained.
None of us are free.
It’s a simple truth we all need, just to hear and to see.
None of us are free, if one of us is chained.
None of us are free.
Now I swear your salvation isn’t too hard too find,
None of us can find it on our own. (On our own)
We’ve got to join together in sprirt, heart and mind.
So that every soul who’s suffering will know they’re not alone.
Oh, none of us are free.
None of us are free, yo
None of us are free, if one of us are chained.
None of us are free.
If you just look around you,
Your gonna see what I say.
Cause the world is getting smaller each passing day. (Passing day)
Now it’s time to start making changes,
And it’s time for us all to realize,
That the truth is shining real bright right before our eyes. (Before our eyes)
None of us are free.
None of us are free.
None of us are free, if one of us is chained.
None of us are free.
Oh, none of us are free.
None, none, none of us (None of us are free)
Oh, none one of us
(None of us are free, if one of us is chained) Well, well,
Well, once again
(None of us are free) None of us are free
(None of us are free) None of us are free
(None of us are free, if one of us is chained) One of us, none of us, one of us
(None of us are free) Lord, have mercy
(None of us are free) Oh, let me save you
(None of us are free, if one of us is chained)
If one of us is chained, none of us are free.
Well, I gotta tell about it
(None of us are free) Oh, ma ma ma
(None of us are free) Ma ma Lord
None of us are free, if one of us is chained.
None of us are free.
None of us, none of us, none of us are free.
None of us are free.
None of us are free, if one of us is chained.
None of us are free.
None of us are free.
None of us are free, no
None of us are free, (if one of us is chained), oh, Lord
(None of us are free) oh, Lord
None of us are free.
(None of us are free)
None of us are free, if one of us is chained.
None of us are free.