A South African Fist
I had a friend in South Africa I thought I did at least she knocked and knocked and when I opened up she said it isn't you She was a white jew Im a black-souled crew of the arctic snow I asked about what happens down there in South Africa she didn't seem she knew She said it isn't up to you But I have my curious ways in this heavy crossy race oh well still I have some clue There is this black mans wow deep down there in the crowd he is a crowned president an English Negro blue he is the mild winds sew for this vast place residents I heard it was so beautiful to walk the cliffs and shores painting even reached your soul and settled your guts and gores I read in in the Mandelastory thought of strain and glory She has resented me now don't come here with your blow we talked a long time on Internet she refused to take the vow to really let me rely on let but she confused me to regret Now I have no friend no loathing fiend no ticket either but I can always send my thoughts for mend as a sudden speeder To have heard of such a land people you haven't met by the spirits of lantern of the distance extinct forces of fairy hopes from North Cape to Cape Stern and glare time to involve winds of yarn shape and share new eras barn brotherhood to evolve Odd Vidar Bakkejord, Oslo, Norway