We are all fighters
I remember the time I lived in Angola
the whole nation was against us,
"send foreigners home" was all you could hear
besides the screaming children of hunger and shooting guns.
I flew to the east coasts
Where millions of men and women
wearing the same clothes, riding bikes
were fighting for what was called "their lands"
I traveled to the warm countries of God
where people are good and friendly
every now and then someone disappeared
and a mother was crying for the lost child
Oh, Home sweet home, my country
I'm back, tired of all those days;
I need peace and silence, need to sleep
getting ready for the Earth Day parade.
