Number 8
by N/A
Remember the way we use to dance in number eight a kind of
magic
African, and the people around us they often said that our world
could
not be reached.
So tell me why all the stories repeat themselves and we’ve been
poisoned by this way.
Please open your ears become wise to what our enemies might
say.
Azisenzeni na? I’ll be leaving your town.
I’m tasting the rain.
I’m sorry to say, I’m sorry for having loved you this way,
maybe if we make believe, we’ll be free.
The golden years we enjoyed then have passed away and we’ve
been left here with a fantasy.
And now the robins sing about how I start my day waking up on
bended knees.
So tell me why all the stories repeat themselves, I’ve been appointed
by the devil to ask you this.
And now the darkness demands to know why, I wont lay down my
sword and die.
Azisenzeni na? I’ll be leaving your town.
I’m tasting the rain.
I’m sorry to say, I’m sorry for having loved you this way,
maybe if we make believe, we’ll be free..