You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, Ill rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

Cause I walk like Ive got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still Ill rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

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