A Motor-Bike In Afrika - Peter Hammill

A motor-bike in Afrika

Yeah, he’s riding the white line

Oblivious of snakes stretched out across the way like trip-wire

Shouting

«The road is mine!»

Tracing the line of the Skeleton Coast

Ghost riders from the Sud-West:

The original Angels of Death they seem

Six motor-bikes abreast

Riding through the oppressive night

Now only the hardest remain

Look at the scars of the tyre-tracks

Look to the bodies behind their backs

Look at the bastards bray

In Afrika today

The bodies of Biko and Soweto poor

The Christian message of Dutch Reform

The sound of the monster, the motor-bike roar

The hate in the eyes of the uniformed Boer

The head and the bucket, the boot and the floor…

Racial torture and racial war

In Afrika today

Come in Rhodesia, South Africa, your time is up…

No protection on a motor-bike, man;

Sooner or later that normal traffic’s gonna get you