The mockery of fondest love
And exhibitions of peace
Behind private dinner halls
Must crushed for the lie the perpetuate at the altar of Uhuru
There can be no peace
Nor genuine love
While our minds are policed
Homes raided
Leaders jailed
And our sons and daughters murdered
O where are the minstrels now,
Those complaint clowns
Who jest while scarvengers tear at our eyes
To trace the soul of our rebellion
Where am I
That I may shout defiance
Emerging from the hidden furnace of my spirit
Calling an aggrieved people towards rebirth
And insurrection
Against these nocturnal beasts
Who guard our dreams
And command our poems
To kneel before their guns.
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