by Siza Nkosi
He wears yellow socks
And the sun shines on his feet
His hands are as black as a cold lonely night
And his eyes big as the hole in his heart
His pride resides in a place he calls paradise
And thinks its time you made him president
They greet him with smiles he calls fake
They sing freedom
With a tone that is of tune…
Poverty and politics – same different
Health and wealth – mission impossible
Prostitution and religion – a spiritual path
Abortion independent – moral affection
Crime and AIDS – social interest
It is madness to this mad mans mind
He carries his frozen tear in a frame of dreams
He wants to rest but its not easy as it seems
Human analyst declared him crazy
Just give him his pair of yellow socks to warm his feet