As an African child

I crawled on mama arm

Searching for an imaginary house

Which bear me with a fancy view

Of the coming clouds upon my head

As an African child

I jumbed many times for seeing the clown

Who laugh and cry

Making jokes

Acts an excellent spy

With many children in their bed

As an African child

I saw the bitterness on mama face

And tried to chase

Her shadow before her cheek is wet

As an African child

I drew my plan on the clay pot

I insisted to fly

Asking my sun to let

The charming of justice light

And asking the darkness to rest