Yesteryear may be dead and gone
But the memories linger on
I work like a honey bee
While Uncle Bob reap the sweet.
...
A Cry For An Outcry
Yesteryear may be dead and gone
But the memories linger on
I work like a honey bee
While Uncle Bob reap the sweet.
I till the field
I plant the seed
But too much greed to feed
I have no choice, I must rebel.
Uncle Bob keep robbing the poor
Everyday he robs more and more
Enough is enough, give me a break.
Your wrath is hot hotter than hot,
And a little hope is all I've got.
I do not want to lose my soul.
Temptation won't leave me alone
Sometimes I feel like following the Egyptians
The Tunisians, the Libyans, and as of late, the Malians,
Now you think I'm crazy
You think I'm crazy.
A revolution is looming in the air
And Uncle Bob I do not care.
--
(This is a cry, of the ordinary Zimbabwean, the Civil Servants, Women and Children. This is a cry, a cry to the world)