Sands of all kinds of gold
The laughter of children and the smoking of chiefs
Elders gather to talk philosophy
Men fight in want of thee
Women of illustrious beauty
full lips and hair to match
Loud booming voices
bosoms blossoming with wisdom and love.
Oh my place.
A scornful look upon his reflection
She is inadequate, not worth fighting for
Flowing locks as straight as the lips of their conquers,
when they were conquered, they still did not fill
Toil in a foreign land
The warriors now war against one another
Preferring to serve the ideas of another
The gold has left them
And the grey has overwhelmed and become them.