I'm the one with the golden horn
Speaking the truths of our forefathers buried under our feet
Having died digging gold for the white man

I believe I was born to teach
Teach the Afrikan child of their history
For to face your future
You must embrace your past

They labeled us the dark continent
After they had forced us to dig up the glistening black coal beneath our homes
Which covered our bare backs like the oil they were draining from under our homes
Our homes they took us away from and ran to the ground
To make way for their stone and steel castle

We still work like slaves we once were
To buy back our gold, silver, oil and souls

They buried the idea of us being nothing but slaves so deep in our subconscious
We have lost our conscience and fallen for their ways
We see a fellow child of the soil as a nuisance when they are begging for scrapes of food and warm clothes

They placed Afrika's offspring behind metal bars with the apes, hyenas, gazelles and watched from the distance with crocodile tears at the suffering "aborigines"

Listen to the song in the wind
Your ancestors are singing underneath the oceans they were thrown in
Your forefathers are singing underneath the soil beneath your step
Listen
Child.