When our forefathers' decisions added more weight than doughnuts
It is indeed our play but the ball was left behind in history
Like the death of our leaders which still remains a mystery
For when the kings died their sons became slaves
And the new masters danced in the center of their royal graves
And on the bodies of their royal daughters, producing infidels
And on the heads of the princes that got white-washed and baptized in piss
As they crawled under the master's table in search of temporary bliss
Dignity lost, new virtues assigned, slave mentality abound!
We forgot who we were so we know not who we are
Systematic amnesia, now we depend on the system to guide us forth
Towards the glory hole that can fit only one of us at a time
A success story meant to excuse all their crimes
The land is ours but the rules are theirs so we remain on the margins of time
For the real game-changers change the rules
While we run around chasing after a wild goose
In search of a ball long lost in their garden grass
Amongst other things
We were once kings!
The Black Chronicles
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