We are in a space where (we) the youth do not

Know our identity that identifies our identification,

We speak English and beg colonial gods to accept us because we speak rotten (slang).

We speak our mother tongue (language) and hope

Our ancestors will forgive us because we speak rotten (language).

Adopting western aliens, we call it adapting to evolution,

Justifying our gradual extinction...

But youthfulness can we write a book?

Can you call our upon our history with pride?

Or is it a vague picture (now)?

Our grandmother stories all lost in our illusions (in translation)

That we are metamorphosing to be better than our forefathers,

Whilst our values taught by these forefathers die with our metamorphosis.

Does not “Better” take what it’s taught and grow?

Or does losing all those “old fashioned” values seem the better thing to do?

More appealing to the masses that’ve all lost their way?

We’d choose humility over hostility, but humility gets you killed

When you stop to help a brother’s whose intention is to take.

We’d choose spirituality over drugs (addiction) but drugs

Give more adrenaline rush, more excitement.

We’d choose the simpler things in life:

Like love, like honesty, integrity, like wisdom and sounds of blackness

But the bling, the fashion, the vanity, the silver and the gold...

It all sounds more appealing to the masses that have lost their way.