We Are the Slaves

We Are The Slaves

Under the sun we toil and bake,
For a black-as-night gold,
That's not worth the ache,
Our weathered forefathers now dead, grey and old,
Had their lands stolen,
But the ticks say they were sold,
A steel revolution,
In unknowable size,
Burns bright in our hearts,
But the hope, it soon dies,
As another brother falls,
By the beating baton,
The dead number many thousands,
But we slave on,
Blood and sweat and tears,
Would make a flood if not desert dry,
Built up on fifty years,
From the kinsmen's eye,
We are the slaves,
We will never be free,
Of a venomous genocide,
That is a like a lock without a key,
We would rise if we had the strength,
But the disease is ripe,
We are but a tenth,
Compared to the overseers,
Who whip and who kill,
No hope for our people,
Our children born still,
So we look to the sky,
For a saviour and hope,
But we just bleed and cry,
The noose tightens,
Our people die on the ropes.

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