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A S K A R I – Lyrics

They lust papes. We play nice.

Soldiers in the empire.

Violence plaguing our time.

Wanna go home in a little.

Bit of chrome by my middle.

Patrolling a riddle.

For, my enemy.

Feelings don’t mean nothing. From what I’ve seen in theatres of destruction. But these scenes aren’t scripted. Nah. It was a con, that’s why we were conscripted. If war’s a theatre, we’re the actors. Directed by colonial captors. They took control of where my fam lives. Forced us to chuck our own language in favour of theirs. What kinda slavery’s heir is this hell we’re in? I’m seeing people bleeding. Broken. Don’t have a reason but for freedom we’re hoping. And it’s not for us. Cos after this war we will still be stuck. Our lives in exchange for another buck. Collecting their spoils when the blood has stopped.

A S K A R I.

They lust papes. We play nice.

Soldiers in the empire.

Violence plaguing our time.

Wanna go home in a little.

Bit of chrome by my middle.

Patrolling a riddle.

For, my enemy.

We were called upon. Pawns from across waters. Battalions transported on. Shores to be slaughtered from. Landmines and the first tanks, planes and automatic guns. Our bodies left out when the battle’s done. No honour in the way we were abandoned. No slumber. Up for days. While the ranking. Officer can’t be seen like a phantom. This was his country’s fight. Unaware if his country’s right. Agency taken away by his country’s might. One day we’ll see the light, fam. It must be nice. From Eritrea to Ireland. India, Jamaica to Thailand. Finland, Brazil and Azerbaijan. Our fight will cease and we’ll be rising. One day, yeah.

Fela says Zombie. Fellas are zombies.

British Army ain’t just man in Abercrombie. No monuments to the colonies in Fondi. Viceroy we ain’t nice boys. You’re wrong, b. Strongly advise against being a zombie.

Hamid Idris Awate was an Askari.

My great grandfather’s were Askari.