Biko

September seventy-seven Port Elizabeth's weathered find It was business as usual In police room six one nine Oh Biko, Biko, Bikos Biko Oh Biko, Biko, Bikos Biko Yihla moja, yihla moja The man is dead! The man is dead When I try to sleep at night I can only dream in red The outside world is black and white With only one colour dead Oh Biko, Biko, Bikos Biko Oh Biko, Biko, Bikos Biko Yihla moja, yihla moja The man is dead! The man is dead You can blow out our candle But you can't blow out our fire Once the flames begin to catch The Wind will blow it higher Oh Biko, Biko, Bikos Biko Oh Biko, Biko, Bikos Biko Yihla moja, yihla moja The man is dead! The man is dead And the eyes of the world are watching now Watching now... Watching now... Oh, oh, oh