My forefathers are buildings in the sand

They left a thousand ruins across the land

I love them deep like salt, they feel bitter on my skin

I believe in pleasure, they believe in sin



In their castles, unaware of time

They are standing still like statues moist with slime

Melodies of gardens, memories of war

I can't hear their voices anymore



Listen to the crying in the streets

All the lonely people that you meet

Children of the change, caught like rats in a trap

But the little ones are dancing to the Duco Box Rap



Dancing with the free man, dancing with the foe

wishing I was yellow man, wishing I was Omo

Got to feel the breathing of faces as they smile

Got to run for cover on the golden mile



Now we're dancing to the beat of the rock and roll

The feeling of the mood in your soul, in your soul

I believe in ganja, I believe in Jah

I'm bopping to the beat of the Duco Box Rasta



We're running for our lives in the gutters of the 'Brow

we've eating from the scraps of the black man's chow

We've been living on the edge of the silent sea

we've been raised on the smoking of the Beatnik tree



We were victims of the struggle, and victims of 

apartheid

But we've got to reach the sun before it gets too late

We're crazy with belief, we are mad with disgrace

for we bore the brute disdain of the whole human race



Listen to the jungle, rap-a-tap-tap

The boogie boogie bungle, rap-a-tap-clap trap

listen to the beat of the people in the street

The shaking of the castanets, the moving feet



Blessed are the prophets of rock and roll

And the feeling of the mood in your soul, in your soul

Do you believe in ganja, do you believe in Jah?

Are you bopping to the beat of the Duco Box Rasta, man?



Song For Harry or Harry's Song



There's a blonde woman standing in the shade

I've got a friend called Harry who thinks he's got it 

made

I know the joker's up your sleeve, they're taking 

trains to everywhere

I've been so hungry for your lies, Harry are you there?



There's a late night rambler drowning in a beer

The prostitutes in Cuba charge service fees for wear 

and tear

The loneliness of love, the bitterness of yesteryear

I'm desperate to be a nobody, Harry, Harry take me 

there



I've been living in the shadows of addiction and 

despair

But I've got a friend called Harry. Harry are you 

there?

And do you really care?



One more Summer on the beach, one more Winter in the 

can

Standing on the street-corner feeling like a man

But Harry's always restless. Harry wants his share

I'm running from him daily. Harry, Harry it's not fair



I've been living in the shadows of addiction and 

despair

But I've got a friend called Harry. Harry are you 

there?

And do you really care?



Everybody knows him, he's got contacts everywhere

It's no use getting married, or moving to John Foster's 

Square

He's the friend of crooks and lepers, and the enemy of 

fresh air

Nowhere to go, no deal to cut if Harry's is not there



I've been living in the shadows of addiction and 

despair

But I had a friend called Harry. Harry are you there?

And you don't really care?