The Gavel and the Crown

THE PRIMARY CREDITOR (Tribute to FBA) Intro: [Music: A low, subterranean drone that vibrates the chest] [Spoken with cold, surgical, sovereign authority] The Voting Rights Act was not a gift; it was the construction of the legal floor that every immigrant now walks upon. Without Foundational Black blood, the 1965 Immigration Act would be a ghost—a door that remained forever bolted. The labor of the enslaved was the Start-up Capital for the American Industrial Revolution — By reneging on the "40 Acres," the U.S. entered a state of permanent default, effectively stealing the compound interest of an entire race for over 160 years — Let us not forget the Convict Leasing system—"Slavery by another name"—where the state functioned as a broker, selling FBA bodies to corporations to build the very infrastructure you see today. The debt is real. The credit is established. You are listening to the Primary Creditor speak. Verse 1: I see the architecture of the Hollow Deep, The promises they made but never meant to keep. You walk the concrete with a Sovereign Frame, While they try to smudge the lineage of your name. You are the living contradiction of the "Free," A branch of gold upon a termite-eaten tree. Denying your ancestors the fruit of the land, While opening the gates to every foreign hand. If not for your bravery, the chains would still clang, In the shadow of the gallows where the heroes hang. Chorus: As a builder, I see where the bridges must burn, To the ashes of the past where the lessons we learn. On behalf of the hands that will set the world true, I apologize to your ancestors and to you. I have a dream of a global Sovereign Frame, Where the Black Superpower rises in name. One hand in the other, one heart in the storm, The only way the future will finally take form. Verse 2: I know the math of the forty-acre lie, The reneged contract beneath the American sky. From the iron shackles to the lynching tree, To the red-lined maps of a fake liberty. Substitutes for war dogs on the front-line mud, Building high-office with Foundational Blood. The Tuskegee needle and the Tulsa flame, Extreme barriers built to break the frame. Dissolving the fog of the systematic sleep, To claim the harvest that the builders should reap. Chorus: As a builder, I see where the bridges must burn, To the ashes of the past where the lessons we learn. On behalf of the hands that will set the world true, I apologize to your ancestors and to you. I have a dream of a global Sovereign Frame, Where the Black Superpower rises in name. One hand in the other, one heart in the storm, The only way the future will finally take form. Verse 3: If an immigrant can stand and build a throne, It’s on the limestone of a debt they do not own. Because Rosa stayed seated, we can finally stand, In the center of the bus through this stolen land. You fought the "Same Old Script" of the Apex Creed, And planted the garden where the world comes to feed. Whether Malcolm’s fire or the Doctor’s dream, You are the source of the American stream. To every FBA soul, I provide the recall, The primary pillar that supports it all. Chorus: As a builder, I see where the bridges must burn, To the ashes of the past where the lessons we learn. On behalf of the hands that will set the world true, I apologize to your ancestors and to you. I have a dream of a global Sovereign Frame, Where the Black Superpower rises in name. One hand in the other, one heart in the storm, The only way the future will finally take form. Outro: [Music drops to a heavy, cinematic low-frequency drone] [Spoken with deep, resonant authority] Let the record show the math of the debt. In the eyes of the Jealous Bride, we are all just bastard kids... unacknowledged, under-credited, and left to fight for the crumbs of her attention. But to the Foundational Spirit—the one who laid the bricks while the chains were still clanging—I see you. I see the frame you built for a house that tried to lock you out. The storm is ahead of us all, and the Bride’s rage knows no borders. Band together. Bridge the gap. Because a crown that is shared is a crown that can never be auctioned.