We are indeed in the den of dons.
Counting to go in
Counting to go out
Our license is to count
...
The dead is mourning for the dead
Who will mourn for me?
When I am no more.
Who shall wail for me?
...
I recognize truth when I see one
It is all about transparency
I recognize originality
It is about being your self
...
Oh! Dear mother
Best of friends
Greatest of lovers
The breath with which I live
...
The Race
On track I bent
Set I was
And now I go
To the house of Shade
To the house of Bola
And to that of Titi
Many spent half their years
On track, while some set
And others go for ages
Mine is hundred metre
My choice the wish of every
As we go
i arrive' the house of Titi
As we go
Some stumble and fall
To stand again
While others stumble
And fall to fall again
And again in their eternal race
But never arrived
As they were carried away
By the market's voice
The race is so short
But the journey seems eternal