September ’77
Port Elizabeth weather fine
It was business as usual
In police room 619
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Oh Biko, Biko, because 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, because Biko
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Yihla Moja, Yihla Moja
-The man is dead, The man is dead
You can blow out a candle
But you can’t blow out a fire
Once the flames begin to catch
The wind will blow it higher
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Yihla Moja, Yihla Moja
-The man is dead, The man is dead
And the eyes of the world are
Watching now
Watching now
Peter looked out from the stage in 1987, after leading the crowd in several rounds of the « Biko » chorus, said « the rest is up to you, » then left the stage without another word. I was a 23-year-old numbnuts, but that cut through young callowness (and more than my share of cheap beer) to send an electric shiver from my neck down my spine. I have the same reaction every time I hear this song, but this treatment notched it up several volts. Wow.