Seven years of bad luck and it ain't over….
Waddling sorry duck; nothing seems any better
Tell me you know that song
Perhaps we could get a sing-along
Never mind, the chorus ain't that long
You might mumble a few words right or wrong
Will I be rich or poor?
I cannot but implore
These thoughts plague me sore
Can someone please shut the door?
None of these to think no more
Just a moment with my core
Peradventure I could dream a bright future
My Father, my Papa
How I love to call You by name
Shall Your mercy come?
This one is near dead
Your wealth in health quick be done
Health in wealth like a lottery won
Here and near just like 'the beyond'
A little intervention in but a second
To you who rode upon palm fronds
I pray in earnest bonds
My Father, my Papa
Biko! I don tire
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