In remembrance of Oury
The cell is a hard place to burn
To burn a young man alive
to burn a young life alive
to burn hopes and dreams alive
to break our motherly sisterly brotherly heart
The cell is a hard place
to torn a security system apart
to push humanity apart
to torn iron bars
to crush our African flesh
The cell is supposed to be an egg
To protect and allow to restore and grow
Not a playing ground for fallen angels
Not a grey nasty silent killing field
Not a death row
Na e bi
Na e bi nje boli mba e
But many of those who rule
And many of those who wear