The rain is an African dance.
It leaps and jumps...

There's so much to say,
but nothing to say it with...

Time and time again,
we all fall to our feet...

Sliding my security over my trembling body
peering over the edge into the war outside my soul...

Someone i don't know someplace that is new
Someone that talks to cover the war waging inside...

Pasty white skins
Imperialist ideas...

Love is a purple mango.
It is so delicious...

With three old men is no way to spend her Saturday...
Most would think that with such company life would...

Its simple enough
to understand...