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19 My Chief Like you, my chief From this village, I am Permanently below the clouds Of our minds Neither houses nor inhabitants Still, I thank you My chief, I praise your courage And your rule Who said to flee when you awoke Everyday To meet face to face with our desert? Chief, you must be! The Curse They hurled him through Seven jungle alleys and hills Paraded their devil through The market square – of their borrowed minds To the frenetic drumbeats Of their self-appointed seers They buried him in Devils Reserve, On the backside of town, Of their minds, out of sight Curse unto your kith and kin, he cried May you choke in your blood river Seventy times seven times over His plea to life denied, he wailed ...

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