Your voice felt nice wrapped around my chorus
when your late blossoming and early bloom
performed its swollen truth for blind forces
fatigued from our fevered pursuit of them
after morning fell and only harlots
waving off love, scrubbing off its perfume,
before day broke with tradition and charred
tired bones, could tell how hard we fell for words.
Over seas of uninformed silence rushed
godless voices singing in unison
dockyard chants painting coincidences
onto our bodies as we sailed past crews
of sinking eyes bruising us with faces
layering fresh coats of old shame onto
our cracked path tearing up the weathered wharf
as they walked with us the same boulevard.
To keep time we harmonized our chaos,
syncing speech and denied rights to freedom
with each other in a song of courage
which poured forth from a crucible no one
knew burned within us, scraping injustice
from the iron thighs of a world consumed
by denial, its fire to refine our
renewal reigniting lion hearts.
Too few rebel against what oppresses
true not to themselves but to the boardroom
decisions enshrined by executives
in stone and on digital tablets hewn
by slaves labouring to record new laws
decreed to sleeping masses we exhumed
when we both took to our mics and we fired
forth verse performed with total disregard.
Narcotic precision injected hits
we spat out as antidotes for those youth
subdued by branding’s coldest opiates,
frozen in suicide poses below
zero in aptitude, we woke them up
just to show how human their own urge to
be heard is, how easily hurt’s conquered
when we let our expectations fall hard.