So the diaspora,like the great choo choo train sang of by Hugh Maselekela, comes and sucks away men and women from their loved ones, drags them down deep deep deep into the bowels of the earth.
Here where you see no sun, see no light;
The lucky ones come out alive, they bring bread and food to their wives;
The unlucky ones, well, they remain unlucky,
they return as if to hives, with nothing else to come to but lies;
There is a thing that comes with working outside.
You work outside because you are working for someone, for something.
It don't matter you living in a tent, you getting stung by freaking mosquitoes, you speak English everyday, you miss the local brew... you know you will come home to someone, to something, to somebody outthere...
The heartbeat of a lonely heart working out there in the lands beyond the horizon,
Beats in unizon with the heart of the one that is out there on the other side of the horizon,
As you breathe, so shall she,
As she yawns, so shall yea,
Discord makes life vile should another disturb the rhythm,
Chaos rules rampant when foreign breath cuts across your own...
But, such is life, and such is love.
Woe to the love struck traveler who sets his foot out on the tracks to travel,
He shall not look back lest he starts to grovel,
At the nice things he has left in his roundavel,
Even though he knows other miscreants will be having it by the shovel.
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