...blood of the pour,
pumping a gas station near you,
sweat can hear you as you pass;
cologned, perfumed,
survive the lane,
nose held against the Furies of sewage,
eyes deny the coming tears,
news re-affirms the fears
that we have wood running in our veins...
no bridge between the balconies and the gullies
we the first worlds international monetary pet
we the only reggae rent a dread industry
we account for our lives to get a visa
and the touriss only flash a drivers,
to turn the wheels of the hotel plantation
independence? what ave we won
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