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