A Little Landlocked Country

A little landlocked country with no seaport

Snuggled in, shaped like a teapot

Anchored by ceasarism

We huddle in the stormy weather of absolutism

A harp strings a song filled with sobriety

The wails of a nation is not a priority

A dominating element of elitism

Conjugated with stalinism and cynicism

The iron fist of neo imperialism

The song speaks of a nostalgic tale

Patriotism a figment from the devil’s snare

Where is the land of milk and honey?

A memory lost it feels phoney

The bellies of children grumble from hunger

Where are the ancestors? It can not go any longer

The blood of the Nguni genocide

A blood bath without insight

Consolidation of power, illogical

A force of evil, inhumane

What about the songs of victory?

The end of bigotry?

When it the breaking dawn?

The myhts of freedom, a distant memory

Only in a little landlocked country

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