(One two three four.)
First verse. It doesn’t get any worse. Me and Missing Link
on the floor with guitars. We are family.
We’re up against the door, by the stage, beside the girls. In the name of Jesus
Christ we were blessed at birth. Family.
Only space in the house. Family.
We are family. Pata Pata come to praise.
(I know it I know it I know it.) We family!
Missing Link is polite on his nerves. Siya bear him load. Inan’out from di
road. Family. Electronics bring the
people to a night in the town. Monday Blues, Maboneng. The Soil upon the stage…
(Know it I
know it I know it.)
Joy! Jo-o-o-y! Jo-o-o-o-o-y!
I know it’s the kind of feelin’
Missing Link
nurse a drink, just the one to ease the nerves. The Soil play a fourth “last
song” in a row.
I got love
in my heart. I got love in my heart. And you know it’s the kind of feeling. Mama wam ndiyabu-le-la!
(A got my
mother-my-father-my-sister-my-lover!)
Master P want to say that today
the born day. Thixo wam wakudala!
Namhl’ ek’seni.
Ilanga libeth’ebsweni. Ndahamba nday’ecaweni. A capella get down as down can ever
get and the audience is swooning. Lovely
ladies in the house got the songs verbatim!
Usis’thandwa sam, You! Get up and dance! Now, you! Get up and dance and get as down
as you can. Family. I’m saying this
coz we are family. Family. I got joy in my heart. I got
love in my heart. I got joy in my heart. And you know it’s the kind of feelin’… We are family. Family. We are family. I know it, I know it, I know it.
We are family.
We come to
praise. We come to know. We come to play our maiden show. UBongeziwe udlal’ingom’ethi
uGunuza! Family! We come to stand
outside. Shake the hand of a man, be smokin’ all that time. Coz we are family!
Family.
Family. Family.
Meanwhile,
in a twitterverse far away, racist bile vomits across cyberspace, as the
repulsive, the evil and the stupid fight for microphone time with the
self-righteous and the cuntish.
Bigotry
rides side by side on your timeline with wilful ignorance; condescending
sarcasm passes for communication. The deaf fight the dumb. Everybody talks shit
and nobody listens. Griffiths Mxenge died so spoilt children could spit on his
grave.
But also for this…
Coz we are family! Family! Family!
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