For the bullets of hate are like the pains of love and,
I will always live to tell my story.
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They painted their eggs and decorated them,
Oh, how sad it is to see them at work;For the false doctrine is what they love and,Who will tell them that rabbits do not lay eggs?
Grabs,
But unravelled is the muse of your love;And like Nyaunu who was interrogated last night! !But try to understand the ways of life before you end up in jail.
This world is dribbled like a footballer!
This world is driven like a racing car!And some stories are better left untold;But i will always have my bread and water,And be ready to say, ‘L’Chai-Shalom’!
There is no decent burial for these people for,
But i will try to change things when i come.
Untutored,
Untutored,But the land ahead is already wet from the rain!And like the works of our won hands to the public,For the boys were late today.Examined and forsaken,And like your ways and my ways;But the school girls were very late today.Untutored,But the songs of Yahweh were sung in a strange land!Untutored,And your steps were already noted…
Your bloody stool will stain the stool,
But my writing cannot change anything,For you really know what you are going through.