So apartheid is over?
I couldn’t tell
It’s Sunday I’m sure
I hear the tolling bell
...
So check it out
I want to be a poet
I have no doubt
I really know it
...
Stand here, move towards the light
The evening has swathed and into night
I will be where I was when last you found
I will be here in that tedious shroud
...
The industrious hand that never stops
It’s inconspicuous effect on youth
Who forget that once peeled is lost forever
Once gone into that fissure will, dear children,
...
A*p*a*r*t*h*e*i*d
So apartheid is over?
I couldn’t tell
It’s Sunday I’m sure
I hear the tolling bell
I see them all;
So proud, so sure, so fake
I hear the call
I heed the sign;
Sleep and rest they will all forsake;
Is it time?
Yes the sermon has begun
When it’s over see them run;
Back to where they were
Back to their special place in the sun
We smile and nod and sing a song;
We laugh and cry and say it’s taken too long
Then behind closed doors we start again;
We relive the torture, agony and the pain
We live apart -
We say it’s a start;
We live next door -
We say it’s still sore
I am young
But the same songs I have sung;
But now I see
That to be truly free;
We need to let go
Let people know;
We are on our way
That I will say;
But without honesty the bell will toll;
And soon… we will all be old