BULAWAYO BY BUS

How do you

Bring a solid man down

Run him aground

Dent his wings

Erase his memory

His begotten things

His beloved belongings

His shrouded whims

So that he slowly sinks to the deep end

To his swimming pool of rage

His farm of age

Reason and rage

Fume and front

For now he reeks and pants

For an end to his confusion

an end to his mass oblivion

myriad dilution

bitter confusion

mass hysteria

he thinks he is inferior

his wings feel in tatters

it is a twisted dilemma

sick enemas

torture and survival screams

Babylon by bus

Riots and loud chants

Bulawayo by bus

By mind, by voice we curse and cuss

By long roads

We stress and straighten

By hard screaming boards

We have our voice

By long white boards

We have our long forgotten voice

Bulawayo by bus

Babylon by chant

Babylon by nook

By hook

By look

We must take

We must pack

Face north, dry mouths

Lullaby tears

Allay the tears

For the time is now

This is how

This is how we do it

This is how we sing it

This is the freedom song

Sound of peasants gongs

We must be ready

Hold steady, the bus is coming

Hold our ground

They cannot pound on us any longer

The bus is coming...

The bus is coming...