The little bird
Whistling in darkness
On Sunny Monday
Covered in a calabash

Some kill the pretty in you
Crushing uncorrupted souls
They plant thorns in sweet hearts
Money love, lavishness, turns them blind.

Little bird drunken
Lured, drugged soul in a foreign land
Its feathers chopped down
Breast mother’s love chained

Its flesh becomes their assets.
As Gold at the JHB stock exchange.
Profiting in inhuman acts
How dare you human traffickers