Some say it took 67 years
All i hear is bleak weary stories
Racism and plunder not yet a memory
If I close my eyes for 67
Will you at least let me see
What freedom is
For still, i have no idea
'Tshwane' still called 'Pretoria'
Marikana mines owned in Britain
Miners fell there for a decent wage
Murderers still getting rewarded
Will i live to be 67
See freedom in my life time
or will Steyn City grow bigger
and Diepsloot much colder
Only from the brown bottle
I saw my father embrace you
No wonder streets are the same
Still stuck in the mute pursuit
of aspirations from 1948
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