This is the Africa I know:
People dying, people crying
The smell of poverty, the stench of disease,
The lament of the innocent dead:
Anguished souls allowed no rest unless they be
appeased.

Behold the face of hunger:
Ghastly and emaciated,
So much despair in the hollowed eyes.
You’d think the out-stretched hand would be latched on to,
You’d expect the bleeding heart to be embraced.
Why the confusion?
Why the disillusion?
Oh, this rich and depredated land.

I'm fighting my brother, destroying my sister,
So proud of the chains that bind:
Anger, hatred, bitterness and fear,
This is the African I am.

Yet in my dreams I hold the keys,
I hold the keys to freedom:
I dare to hope
I dare to forgive
I dare to believe
I dare to live.

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