Should I pray for Africa or cry for her?
Should I run to the outside world
or stay here and watch her die?
Why is everybody joining the dance?
Why is nobody saying something?
How many fathers have we lost?
Where are the mothers?
Do we still care to bury our dead?
We just pass by, looking the other way.
How many orphans have we made?
What is the future for the unborn?
Have we so soon forgotten
Our missing sisters and brothers?
What about the thousands of men
That fought and gave their lives for our freedom?
How did it happen?
who started it? who’s fault is it?
Africa, from the top of kilimanjaro
To the deep of assal your blood flows.
Drums from the south. Horns in the north.
Swords in the west and arrows from the east;
gathered are your children,
to finish the evil masquerade dance.
Is anybody out there?
Are you seeing the display of shame?
Please call this men to order;
Before the kill the last of our kind.
Stop the drum; drop your weapons – say it to them.