Can you allow me to count?
All the things to my heart bring grunt
For it’s not just empty runts
When from them I hear just taunts
From a world so full of fonts.

Just allow me to ask about the new day
Why Jesus was never black for a day
Just tell me why the wise men from the East would pay
To see a King dabbled in hay
Tell me why, why the black man was left away.

For four hundred years plus he was a slave
Just forty years in captivity, children of Israel were saved
By the stroke of a stick to the Red sea their way was paved
But four hundred sea deep tears muffled the cries
Of 40 million black slaves from heaven.

Shame on you Satan, you wouldn’t be black
For if you were our lives wouldn’t be dark
So why to your type you won’t go back
And enjoy the blood they already drank
To their guts so filthy black.

Tell me why the world was so mull
When the Blackman’s head was a trophy
At Nyadzonya, at Chimoio, at Sharpeville, even Daffur
Tell me why, when the stab was of a white spear
The world looked the other side in fear.

Why for years Ian Smith was a poet
Who sang of the Blackman’s demise?
Who never saw Pik Botha paint the picture?
Of an Africa, home of the Boer, snow white
Why would we pretend the debt was paid?
When in our hearts the wounds still bleed.

Steve Biko dead, Malcolm X so, who cares.
Patrice Lumumba, wasn’t he killed?
Even the peace loving Martin Luther King?
Tupac Shakur never chose to die
But the killing machine never seized.

Why wouldn’t I believe that they tried?
To stop the black race through science
Why wouldn’t I think AIDS is the product?
For culling the black race
Why would I trust a Whiteman’s intention?
When all history speaks of his treachery.

Why now do they shake in their pants?
About a Zimbabwe reeling in poverty
When Angola is in a decade’s long war
Sudan, Congo, Somalia it’s no white man’s land
Black women and children cry to death
But how precious is black life.

Is it a secret anymore, their fear?
Of an African resurrection, a new uprising
To claim back what’s rightfully theirs
Taken away by hook and crook
The same good world watched over slavery, apartheid
The same world stands for them in guard of their loot.

Do you see what I see?
That when they cry I have to cry
When I cry they only pat me
Who cares about the tears I cry
Or are they just rivers of my sorrow.