The wake of a pure morning gesturing down the heavy heat
Africa is my mother land tell the foreigner not to mind the scorching heat.

Looking back to the soil how rich and blessed the people feel
But a mere touch of the soil would show you the pain the people feel.

Don't pry into their agony because the suffering can get much
Everyone in the midst of it all hoping and grinding to get much.

The paper is just a tip of what you are getting if you look deep down
But the pain and the triumph after the sweat will push you up and down.
The sound of hope makes men look up and down in triumph.