September '77, Port Elizabeth, weather fine
It was business as usual in police room 619.
|: Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko :|
|: Jila madjo :| the man is dead.
When I try to sleep at night
I can only dream in red
The outside world is black and white
with only one colour, dead.
You can blow out a candle,
but you can't blow out a fire
Once the flames begin to catch,
the wind will blow it higher.
And the eyes of the world are
|: watching now :|