I am the Weary

I am the weary

I am the weary
All of them
My eyes burn
The sick forces up against my will

I am the weary
Each time I close them
They rise up in agony
They rebel against me the buggers

I am the weary
I trudge through life
Toward the something
I’ve yet to find out what

I am the weary
I see the disgruntled youth
History tears across their beaten faces
As if today was yesterday

I am the weary
One bullet, one boer
Is death right?
The lines aren’t even there or are they drawn onto your face?

I am the weary
Strike a human
Strike a rock
The Black Sash, The White Sash, The same Sash

Its for peace
If we even know what that is anymore
What color are we?
Who knows? Who can see?

The fundamentalists cry apocalypse
The majority assert themselves
The new kids say they don’t notice anymore
They are veiled by false liberalism

I am the weary
Is Ben Trovata laughing?
Perhaps he will write a letter
Some joy for a nasty state.


Have I forced you onto that bench?
Have I called out “DOG!”?
We killed Terblanche
Who’s to blame?
It was a wage dispute

No, it was a long time coming.