The marriage of time and space
Makes Sekle a saint in this new farm
It is the forbidden that he does
Sunrise Sunset Sunrise
Sunset Sunrise Sunset
Sunrise Sunset Sunrise
It is the forbidden that he does
Certain Mafi Kumase market days ago
He was caught scattering seedlings from his loins
Onto the fertile women on our gathering floor
And when he was arrested his hands covering the thing
He asked the eldest statesman how dada give him birth
He sings the unsung thunder songs
Sunrise Sunset Sunrise
Sunset Sunrise Sunset
Sunrise Sunset Sunrise
He sings the unsung thunder songs
Last night, at moonlight harvest jamboree
He went stealing the earth on the tomb of our last stool
And the women from late water gathering saw him
And he promised them all, a slash of cutlass on their beads
But some voices caught theirs and he fled away
He held and told a Gye Nyame tale today
Sunset Sunrise Sunset
Sunrise Sunset Sunrise
Sunset Sunrise Sunset
He held and told a Gye Nyame tale today
After several wedlock of times and spaces
He scooped scattered his brains in the cathedrals
And in all the pieces of broken calabashes in some souls
Auctioning his voice on every market space on the pores of earth
He wears white linen under a black three-piece
Holding a microphone, riding in a Beast, spreading The Word
Sekle a saint in this new farm? I laugh a capital laugh!
23/09/11 Legon (8:13pm)
No comments:
Post a Comment