Saturday, 3 March 2012

To the fathers and mothers died for my free doing

Probably its not true, anyway can it be?

Though times of stations and ashes

but to you and I the fallen still neva break.

Cried for love but it was evaporated as

they lay them six feet underground.

Maybe it was a magic but I guess it wasnt?

The rise of all warriors of Ibutho lesizwe

headed by Shaka Zulu.

Was it still cause of depression via oppression

When thousands sacrifice to lay Nandi.

I fear the stories being told about my country

Walking in the placenta, I heard the voices

calling for no more Afrikaans.

Though I knew the sun that shall burn

all man but their passion,moission,vision

assured them honour. Not too long I heard

the screaming along the streets of Soweto:

Neva siren but young lads striving for arriving

though the struggle smuggle their tragedy's

for sure the life another warrior was down

Petersons rest still walking into the freedom

the freedom you and I live today.

Was it still true struggle when the mafias of anger,hatred

role play the son's and daughters of Africa.

Anyway the war started in mind hence

contradiction resulted into complex served by complication.

When a black man hated a black man,

seen his brother as an enemy, mistake and burden creature to kill..

I still ask was it in the struggle that Walter Sisulu

sacrificed his time of pleasure for your leisure and luxury.

too hard the mothers failed to compromised

shout no more dompass sorry for their souls endangered by

a traitor terminator from West.

Pleasure as I treasure the spirit of dedication

Of times of jolling and be romeos

to you tata and Nxamalal, to you all heros

for today Malcom we live the dream.

today you Luther we live through your dream.