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With merciless designs for nevermore
A self-contained genocide
To condemn the slain to the other side...

Cosmic eyes watch with eternal patience
The war

the motherland
I don't even think about my other plans
Arza told me I should go dumb again but I been goin stupid
Half a bottle made me do it (Half a bottle)

I drift among the flotsam and the jetsam.
The last remaining scraps of other people's lives
Cut off from the so-called civilised
We drift along

yourself each day

They never said it would be easy
All the little  things we've got to do
But while you're busy helping others
Don't forget to help yourself

to do is laugh and cry
And all we really have is smoky sky
And we take up arms for everybody other than ourselves
Cause we think they deserve it
But not

They call me bad hombre pistol packing renegade
Thirty thousand pesos for each one of the men I’ve slayed
Lawmen try to put me in jail but watch me

The kilo on my other wrist, that's God, nigga (ah)
The three kilos on my neck, that's God, nigga
A hundred in each ear, that's God, nigga (woo)
Thirty

Wallace and Green found love
in the middle passage
not high school debutantes
they laughed like family
in the bed each Sunday
he drank coffee a lot

body each verse
Why uvuma intwana elingana namI ikuphathise istress
Self made success is the new sms, ithi ngikuthumele itext
Great mc's not too many

So this is what it's like to have it all turn dark grey
I watch the colours drain from the dynamic each day
Did we lose all the fun inhaling smoke

Margaret says there was a celebration just the other night
dogs of bedlam broke the barricades
cinematographers picked a fight
I was walking Highway

passed away.
A wagon bound for Dublin
A pocket in each coat
Holding coffee and some hardtack
And five shillings for the road
Some are on the road for love,

Other whites have been drafted (Wen'uth'ayihlome)
From higher ranking positions
To come and to manual labour (UMandel'uth'ayihlom'ihlasele)
Which was

It's another form of poverty when one shuns their culture favouring other cultures. There is always some good in each culture, even your own.

Trying to make sense of this crazy world
Is getting me nowhere very fast
Each day it gets worse
My head starts to hurt
Wondering how long this will

It was early in the morning I looked the other way
My steps turned to shadows the colors gone from my face
I embrace that the bank owns all the wages

I see your trail
And start out on my quest
Where others have failed
No matter the weather
Regardless of time
Down through each valley
Up every climb

Not with brooms and canes not with crosses and chains
Some others might be casted out with faster than pain
We a generation of killers from

the one to put
the peaches in your pie
sugar in your tea
the twinkle in your eye

Let me be the one who comes
home to you each night
sit there by the fire

Saw you walkin’ back the other day
As I lay back in the tall cool grass
I was thinking I was thinkin’ about you
As clouds rolled on ahead
With these

Can't explain what my life did to me,
my history had me sippin' when i'm sober, i'm feeling misery.
I had pressure from each angle, caught up in a tangle,

and make a deal
I got this guitar I love to play
It brings me heaven and hell each day
And I’m tired of living and fooling around
I got to put this guitar

of the cliff each one will fall with no sense at all never land but just drift
Blue chips municipals spreads are all scattered this has never been seen, all

brought from fires below
Wherever demons roam

Elder's disdain shows on each hollow face
As she turns on the throng
Watch as they burn, darkest ashes return