| Spoken intro)
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| Class programme for the
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| African Anarchist
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| 14 carats he pleaded
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| Yeah, just let me take the
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| Grain like a criminal should
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| Burdens? |
| As in work-horse?
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| God works in mysterious ways
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| But never as a coolie
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| Never as a coolie in the sweat
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| Shop of a deranged mind
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| Her chocolate stain is
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| The envy of caucasia
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| On these empty pages
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| Lies an ejaculatory speech
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| Will his letter survive?
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| Will the words ever reach?
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| Tell me will his letter survive?
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| Will the words ever reach their destination?
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| Well I can hear the call of the Mosque
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| And the ringing of the bells
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| Yeah, everlasting peace on earth
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| And the casting of spells
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| I can see thin white strips of cotton
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| And an ol' wide broom
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| I can see their feelings all wrapped up and muffled
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| In an emotional room
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| Now, it’s the 10th of January
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| And a Taxi awaits to bring me to thee
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| But I’m a son of April
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| And, the only African container of religious sound. |
| Hey!
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| Yeah, the only African container of religious sound
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| So they make love on the 11th, fuck on the 12th
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| And on the 13th they depart
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| Back to the world of school uniforms
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| Perfects with guns and jackboots with heart
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| Would a true story of cultural splinters
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| Ever shred you as a tear?
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| They were making love on a bed of emotional Rizla
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| To burn away the fear
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| They were making love on a bed of emotional Rizla
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| To burn away the fear |