We look back to the ancient past
And castigate the white skin
The shackles of the days before today
Still ring the bell of oppression
We call them the masters
And Inflictors of the flesh
While the gate is yet closed
A new gate opens
A broad way to the mind
With a brown shallow exit
Where the black skin rules
With selfish tools
In the land of the cow and the bee
Where the people lie in wait for hope
And voices seek to be heard
Corrupt hands steal destinies
While accountability fades away
These chains of societal slavery
Are Battles yet unwon