Late eighteen hundreds in the North somewhere,
A young boy by the name of Solomon had a life.
From Virginia, Mississippi, his family traveled,
An older brother and of course a loving mother.
A father of no more but remembered and loved,
Together they worked a piece of land, all they had.
No longer slaves but yet enslaved in their world,
Solomon had a dream to learn and become something.
He ran away, saw the reality of what a brother had said,
He would have to go back home for now, work the field,
A boy by the name of Solomon still dreamed, grew to be.