Our opinions are cast on stones
There's nothing anyone will say in 'our' homes
This pains still hurt our bones
Robbery of service like lost golds
There are briallics to be taught
How long till they start thoughts?
Their thoughts are condensed in a tot
Shaken when their egos are hurt
Children of hatred bought
From freedom to slavery bouts
who will set them free?
Will the old men plant trees?
On the shades they won't watch the glee
My brethren keeps pelting bees
The stings and the beaten plea
Am just amazed that few has wits
Some brains are just empty wigs
All they give is wreathes!
Their satisfaction and glee
Shames us to the knees
Who would pay their fees
They are above learning always at sea!
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