We work under the moody Sky
Running when we have to
Lifting with strength conjured, baggages of pain,
Hatred,
Dissapointments,
And need,
But she never gets satisfied.
She lashes out her anger by bellowing her flames to burn high
We the slaves
She frowns with her scary clouds to blind
We the slaves
She hypocritically cries out when she knows
God is watching
Tears which forces us to hide
And she blames it on us
We the slaves
When we lift our voices, she rages in madness
With thunder
So our voices cannot be heard
Hmmm, we the slaves
“ἐbἐyἐdἐn na yἐbἐ kↄ so?”
Cloud, oh cloudy sky
Take us to that neutral spot
Where we will face no wrath of yours
Or take us through your dos and don’ts
So we will learn to adjust
What is there in a life of shouting?
We are burning!
We hide in fear!
We have been bullied for long!
We have tried everything to satisfy you
To please you to no avail
We could stage a coup
If you were within arms’ reach
Too bad you will always sit on top of the world’s mountain
Ei, sorry o!
Too good you will always be in charge
Just teach us to cope
Your majesty, The Sky.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.
Mum Cee 