The Struggle


Our forefathers bled for this liberty we take for granted,
Freedom in their land is all they ever wanted granted,
For many years they couldn't vote; laws oppressors wrote,
Silenced and never spoke; their rights to speak revoked,
The bottle neck was choked; my people could proceed,
Exploited by the regime; they couldn't be degreed,
But even facing these obstacles, they fought to be free,
For this struggle Mbuya Nehanda was hung from a tree,
Never will I sell out this land, for a sweet cup of tea,
Mutare’s my origins; we step on coffee grains,
The struggle continues; now oppression’s in the brains,
Biological attacks; prescribing poisons to your veins,
This is how the third world now attacks a nation,
Propaganda on television and testing their vaccinations,
Subliminal infested movies will catch you fascinated,
When you’re seeing too much, they’ll get you assassinated,
So many of our liberation heroes they killed with bombs,
Then television replaced our norms,
So that we stay in one position like garden gnomes,
So we forget to live our culture when we stay in our homes,
Is that independence, or we still are dependent,
Africa is the plaintiff, the oppressor's is the defendant.

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