Written by my mum . . .
I found myself singing this song over and over since I got out of bed this morning, so I took out the time to look at the lyrics and it shook me; the chorus, especially.
Dear Me, This is a letter to the girl I used to be . . .
Now how many men of influence don't surround themselves with so much bureaucracy that it's easy to have a human earthly contact with them?
We have made vows that we have not kept, now we reap the consequences of our actions.
When I started this blog, I knew that only two thing really mattered
When I think about Africa, my heart bleeds out from all the holes punctured by my thoughts. It's as though it wears a curse as a cloak, dancing around the fires of ineptitude and mediocrity, to the beat of the drums that the rest of the world is playing.