African sun
Beat down gently
Whisper sweetly
I am worn
It is hard to walk

When your feet are torn
And your heart is rent
Your eyes can’t see
But you know
You see more
Than Mr X and Mrs Y
Who turn their heads with an obvious sigh
They seem to know it all every day as they ride
In their Cadillac’s
“Tut,” “tut,” they sigh
“They should have known better, maybe they should repent”
“Our feet aren’t bent
Our souls aren’t poor
I am sure you know
We are the hypocrites who live next door!”