There
once was this man called King.
He had no royalty in his blood,
But he was called King.
Some loved him and some hated him,
This man called King.
One day he had a dream, a glorious dream.
He told everyone about his dream,
This man called King.
He dreamed that all people were the same.
Not black or white just a man or woman,
Boy or girl, that was his dream,
This man called King.
This man called King had a dream,
But it was not to be, this dream of his.
It was sad that his dream had to die,
Killed by a bullet on April 4.
For his dream he had died,
This man called King.
David Herbert Isakson
II
Copyright
©2003 David Herbert Isakson II