Clinging unto the memories of the past, never wanting to embrace the thoughts of future, the past days of sorrow and torment where my back was ridden as horse and heavy metals be my bracelets
The voice of freedom was sealed with heavy padlocks and slavery be the order of the day.
With the blood of our past and the cacass of our heroes did we nuture this tree of freedom, a tree gradually cut down by modern slavery, yes modern it is, a tree adorned with modern tech and called a modern name.
Reminding us of the pains and struggles of the past, the tears of our fathers being the river of knowledge. My back still aches and my memories still fresh, my manhood still sore, yes sore it is, never again to form strenght, my brother it was, cunningly has he placed a tag on me, but still for freedom will i cry.