RIP, Ms Suzman. And thank you.

(I live in a bit of irrational fear for the day when they want Madiba back).

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Joseph's face was black as night

The pale yellow moon shone in his eyes

His path was marked

By the stars in the southern hemisphere

And he walked his days

Under african skies

This is the story of how we begin to remember

This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein

After the dream of falling and calling your name out

These are the roots of rhythm

And the roots of rhythm remain

In early memory

Mission music

Was ringing round my nursery door

I said take this child, lord

From tucson arizona

Give her the wings to fly through harmony

And she wont bother you no more

This is the story of how we begin to remember

This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein

After the dream of falling and calling your name out

These are the roots of rhythm

And the roots of rhythm remain

Josephs face was black as night

And the pale yellow moon shone in his eyes

His path was marked

By the stars in the southern hemisphere

And he walked the length of his days

Under african skies

 Reply