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the dream was a good one

or so we had thought

but once we’d put the money down

it wasn’t what we’d bought


a promise is a promise

a wish we hope is true

but once we make our little cross

there’s nothing we can do


when the walrus does his little dance

from far it looks like fun

but when the lyrics reach the ear

one only hears umshini wam


what it means is just a guess

and what is said is seldom done

but from what we now begin to see

only a few are having fun


a little boy in old mans clothes

a childhood filled with stress

was it this or something else

that got us in this mess?


the heart of man is what it is

we carry it together

but when the heart is fully unleashed

there’s nothing one can tether 


the best made plans of man 

in the tome it is said

cannot be bridled nor controlled

when the heart is dead


a democracy of twisted hearts

at breaking point entwined

knotted firmly in hopeless hope

in demand of a better time


the mouths that once promised peace

a rope of hope, in hope itself

now dangling from the hangman’s pole 

with great dreams left on the shelf


but still the masses sing the song

and dance until they sweat

but when the dust finally settles down

they’re no more rid of their debt


“the time has come!” 

says the walrus song

but before they’d even finished singing

the time had already gone


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