But I’m just the pianist, a messenger,
I’ll tell you a story, of colour and struggle
You’d listen, wouldn’t you?
A very long time ago, there were gems and diamonds
So beautiful, invaluable
And as time went on, the stones they became
Their dignity and worth assessed by their colour
And treated as if they didn’t matter.
The keys I play, tell you the story of their toil
Black and white, distinct in every demeanor
The misery and pain in the melody I play, you feel it don’t you
You picture a plight of unforgivable misdoings
But I’m just the pianist, with a message to give.
Standing on twos, they learnt as they grew
But on fours they were made to crawl, just because of the hue
The beautiful hue
What is so revolting about it?
Dubbed by yearly trends as the classy LBD
Worn on the skin forever, yet treated as a nobody
I play to you this song, I sing to you
Sharing the story of their weariness
Subjected to torture, got them praying for mercy in a deprecatory mess
But then again I’m just the pianist, working my fingers on this organ
Serenading to you, beautiful people, a song about the belittled coloured man
Who was made to endure a painful struggle.
A very long time ago, hope was alive,
At times surreal, but they fought for our future
One that would be just to all
Where colour wouldn’t mean war
Where unity wasn’t just for the selected,
Where you and I would be respected
I am the pianist, singing to you the story known by many
Colour is divided by a wall,
And some gems and diamonds are considered not so shiny and polished after all.