I was born in the African horn,
In a village, that was always warn torn,
Tired of my life, on a gloomy morn,
I took that fateful decision alone.
Without telling my loving family,
I left them behind, sleeping happily,
I knew, later, they’d cry and mourn,
When they’d find out, I was gone.
With a few pennies and old clothes,
Daring the Sirocco,...
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