who placed the sun in my life.
Don't tell her I'm in prison;
serving a term for treason.
She shouldn't know I'm in jail
and that I've been refused bail.
Inform her not of my situation.
My candid and cruel condition
that attacks my soul with sorrow;
Sorrow that sinks into my bone-marrow.
Don't tell her of my tasteless meals;
handicap beans with sick cereals.
Tell her I've left the shores of Africa
in a bird-like metallic monster.
I've gone in search of greener pastures
lying within the bosom of the future.
Save her from the arrows of agony
and from cries starved of melody.
I've given her enough pain
which has made her eyes to rain.
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