Like ants roaming round under the sky.
All hurrying up to get to what they know,
All dressed up with no place to go.
Walking in a crowd of 40 000,
Wishing there was one like me.
There are those, big and small,
Who try to be those we all see.
There are the girls with the big beehives,
Trying their best just to hide,
The fact that they aren't perfect.
Don't worry so are we.
Then comes the big afros,
Hello Oom, dis Tannie vir jou.
The true sense of original,
You find it in these individuals.
Those ones who roam,
By the corner we all wish to go.
There by the grass, against the flow,
Spend a few minutes, then you'll know.
A little ways down the road,
Are those who's load we do not know.
Hours and hours in despair,
Just be glad that you're not there.
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