Yo, Pecador

Yo, sinner, I go singing
One by one my sins.
I confess to the Almighty,
Hoping to be forgiven.

I accuse myself of waiting for a day
When justice is done on earth,
That we are not made of clay
And not like today we are stone,
And not like today pure stone.

I also accuse myself, sir,
Of not having rebelled,
When they burned the body
Of a black man on Good Friday,
Of a black man on Good Friday.

Yo, sinner, I go singing.