with your bitter, twisted lies,
you may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,




