Mother cries while he dies inside
The hut, surrounded by family ties-
I'm cut- of course the gods tell us lies
We have no food nor drink, and every wake reminds:
We're on the brink, teetering on the edge of extinct
I can't fish: disowned, a scatter-brained atheist
So I'll pack my bags, Mama please lose no sleep!
I need to go find SOMETHING for you and me
So bless my feet, let me run
Against the wind...
In search of hope: in search of Sun