Somewhere
The
state of our homeland
Becomes
a conversation piece
(Have you heard the latest on the Geneva
Report?)
For
people to deplore
And
pity
And
we frown.
Why
can’t they also cherish and celebrate
We
ask,
With
the smell of the sea
And
the taste of thambili
(not iced please)
With
the sound of papare
(at an ear-splitting decibel)
And
the feel of pride
When
the bat and ball come out to play
Why
can’t they talk of the warm sun
(preferably under 32 degrees)
The
laughing children
Isso wade spicy and steaming
(dekkak denda)
Isso wade spicy and steaming
(dekkak denda)
We
demand?
After
all we live here
And
we don’t deplore and scold
But
somewhere in our lives
We
forgot that
We
began to learn to live with the sounds of despair
(Ayio another bomb blast)
Accept
blood-soaked retribution
Fail
to see the hopelessness
(That’s how things are no)
People
have in their eyes
We
cluck and caw
And
sigh and deplore
(Don't know what things are coming to
men)
For
a minute or two
And
then go back to our lives
(So have you heard the latest on the Perera
wedding?)
And
say there is nothing we can do
Somewhere
far away
People
talk of our land in parliaments
Like
they know
And
we frown
(These bloody Westerners!)
But
still
We
do nothing
We
hear them deplore and pity
And
the hopelessness grows
While
we do
Nothing
At
All.
Nothing
At
All.
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