Dimitri & The Scarecrow - Scribbling Hard lyrics

Scribbling Hard Poetry (Excerpt from the poem, “Essentialism” by Dimitri D. Kwenda) The importance held in speaking Remains relevance in the essential The cosmopolitan view of the cosmos Carried in identity through purpose I find, rather subjectively That my relationship to everything Is simplified, vivified through relation My globe is broadcast from my Zimbabwean nation… Verse 1 City winds that'll chime, whispering so sublime In my rhythm and rhyme, in a prism of time Occupy fine space in sacrilege to the signs For the minds of men disregard a life In the crimes are the sins that've turned the tide Where the freed are a-k**ing flanks on their side Black spatter on black, self mastered attack As a matter of fact it's a ma**acre's hack To re-enact the past masters' emphatic attack On the Black saying that they were saving our backs So now what do we prove? Were they telling the truth? That we're savage animals who cannot be controlled? Are we truly uncouth if we don't follow their rules? Coz everything we do puts heads in a noose Xenophobic attacks on people trying to live A momentary relapse into colonial hell The Islamic movement turned to bomb threats I'm upset at,” why import the foreign debt?” Can we think for ourselves in this world? It's so frustrating after having had so much hope It hurts to have to turn on my own people Who spurn the past curve and don't learn to be humble We're coming undone, the crumbling sons With lump sums but we're plummeting funds HOOK: In the hour of need with the power to be What the people who lead have decided to feed Breathe the clean air and divided the seed In greed, each decided to leave debris With power to be what the people have dreamed The exalted have seemed to abandon our creed The cream has been licked by a deadly disease And the hungry are treated to the pain and the grief CHORUS: The crayon is falling apart Your prayer unworthy of God On the paper you're scribbling hard Why are your children living so far? Let me explain, why in the games you play You always pray and still can't find your way Just keep re-writing those rules And keep making fools of those who trust in you… Verse 2 What is my sadness, the blues I could write? Should I search for sympathy and wail on a mic? In the desert of Africa isn't a drop of tear Even the moisture of our sweat evaporates in the air We strive for eternity but watch the sand unending Our hoes are tilling to a lifeless giving Yet we wake to wishes of escapist sleep To the same lifestyle of strain and belief Dumbfound without answers we turn to ancestors Some prefer church, concern for sermons and pastors Speaking to the dead is poetry embedded in Africa Don't need Europe or America to validated Wrought into our women these wrongs But we spoke, we wrote and then broke into song Longsuffering with sighs and woes When we know tomorrow's a slow walk of sorrow Without the role models to point to the path to follow Coz those that could've sold our souls for petrol A whole nation betrayed by a few individuals The agenda on our tables remains rather trivial Efforts to increase the cla** gap, elitism! The skid marks of fancy cars so we can see “Him!” I've see a sad thing and I hope I don't change… My virtues shouldn't tarnish when I have my way! Hook & Chorus (x1) Written by Dimitri D. Kwenda