In the shade of my freshly grown *******
the protection from the rays of the camera flash
doesn't decrease the heat, it intensifies it, at best
And the flood of sweat drowns my skin in a flash

The contours of my ***** create a valley
A bigger valley he wants as he demands I stretch
my ****. They don't after I repeatedly rally
them. “I can't!” He slaps me. My face etch.

More pictures, he wants, of me playing
with my *******. My ******, the tiny rubbery
pips sieve thought my small fingers, surveying
my hand. As the man captures this awkward discovery.

Packs the camera and gives the money, my fee
Then he grabs and hisses to me to tell nobody

For we so fearful, let me lead with caution
to the truth your mind feels needs protection
against.
We’re fenced
in and can't get out to be fully liberated.
Yes, fully, not this half liberated we overexaggerated
which made us blind to our institutionalized minds.
The Phala-Phalas know this, so this gang always reminds
us about 27 years, making us their voter slaves.
Until we realise Mandela took his party with him in his grave,
there's a Hendrik that keeps our rainbow apart.
Even if unity is the deepest desire of our hearts!

The real prophets are dying
The fake prophets are living
Man rather render services to sin
To be immortal, gods of their own, wherein
Man should martyr for the cause of goodness
Where’s the benefit of that if you’re lifeless.

That band is in town again
Calling residents with the cream-white light
Creeping thought the boarded up windows
Of the Bar on Muddy Water Str.

Calling residents with their groaning guitars
In a sorrowful solo, making midnight sky darker
And the melancholic lyrics sang in heavy hearted
harmony, quieting the rest of Muddy Water Str.

Being the dim beacon luring us in
Being the only sound that rung in our ears
All the residents took a sit in the bar
And Blues and liquor drunk Muddy Water Str.

That band drowned us in depression, today
Yet another band will wring us dry, tomorrow

Tired of all the conservatives and the progressives
They pass in the screaming and fail to listen
Between their differences
There is men who want they same thing
Humble yourself, why are you too prideful
Yes, too prideful, to listen to your brother
And so prideful, you need to **** us with all your words
To shield your ego or to comfort your fears
I don’t want the right to be heard
I want the right to be listened to
Deceived by big mouths with some sort of platform
I scream “I want to be listened to! I want to be listened to! I want, I want…”
But it’s when I lose my voice
I realise there is 7 billion people screaming
The exact same notion
The notion will never come to motion
Until we listen to the 7 billion people
Until we see the Berlin Wall between white and black
Fall down to the power
of using our two ears
Fully, with no imperfections
The clear crisp words of another brother
Caressing the ear of another brother
Blocking the hatred of the mind
Allowing the heart to feel for another