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Class programme for the |
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African Anarchist |
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14 carats he pleaded |
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Yeah, just let me take the |
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grain like a criminal should |
|
Burdens? As in work-horse? |
|
God works in mysterious ways |
|
but never as a coolie |
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Never as a coolie in the sweat |
|
shop of a deranged mind |
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Her chocolate stain is |
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The envy of caucasia. |
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On these empty pages |
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Lies an ejaculatory speech |
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Will his letter survive? |
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Will the words ever reach? |
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Tell me will his letter survive? |
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Will the words ever reach their destination? |
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Well I can hear the call of the Mosque |
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And the ringing of the bells |
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Yeah, everlasting peace on earth |
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And the casting of spells |
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I can see thin white strips of cotton |
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And an ol' wide broom |
|
I can see their feelings all wrapped up and muffled |
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In an emotional room |
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Now, it's the 10th of January |
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And a Taxi awaits to bring me to thee |
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But I'm a son of April |
|
And, the only African container of religious sound. Hey! |
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Yeah, the only African container of religious sound |
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So they make love on the 11th, f**k on the 12th |
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And on the 13th they depart |
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Back to the world of school uniforms, |
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Perfects with guns and jackboots with heart |
|
Would a true story of cultural splinters |
|
Ever shred you as a tear? |
|
They were making love on a bed of emotional Rizla |
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To burn away the fear |
|
They were making love on a bed of emotional Rizla |
|
To burn away the fear |
