The sky is gray, so fortify your heart,
Before it overwhelms and rips you apart,
I’m tired of hearing that time heals amidst a war against my whole,
Tear my flesh open and see what I feel in my soul,
A destiny under siege, dreams are fading away... A prisoner of my mind!
They stepped to the podium with a gospel of honey and milk,
They promised brighter days to come,
Instead, they transmitted political plasmodium,
Infectious, now we are down with economic malaria ... A broken people!
Rich but poor, christened with pain and anguish, dressed in tatters and rags.
This experience is harsh and brutal, but we stand tall like our fathers,
They try to bury us in desolation, like the mustard seeds we keep sprouting stronger,
No retreat, no surrender; we match on bold and brave,
Our share of the bread we seek!
Africa, my home, Africa, my motherland, Africa, my love is bleeding.
We need a doctor!
An antidote to this economic malaria is a medication for our ailments.
We cast our ballots, but the white ants still bite. Did they truly count?
We trade cash for cash and pay with money to buy money.
What happened to our diamonds and gold?
Everyone is so eager to exploit and extort. To whom shall we report?
Our pockets thin, our bodies weak, our stomachs grumbling,
We master to survive as living is luxurious!
Tell us not to turn to the herbs when our spirits are crushed and our hearts are constantly ripped apart.
Some motivation for the servants of the crown to serve us, Tea, they say!
The masters and front men, our men in blue, the guardians of order and law,
Angry and hungry, we match on with smiles on our frowned faces,
Christened by the ancient spirit of our ancestors, we match on with hope!
Tomorrow the bright morning star will light our hearts,
As gems, the light inside of us will glitter again.
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