It’s in the drop
Of water, rain water that turns into a pool
Breeding ground for jealous ambition
The domicile of lost and downtrodden faith

It’s in the drop
Of silence, pin-drop silence that becomes an echo
Laden with guilt from feigned friendships and half-truths
The emptiness out of years of self-patronisation

It’s in the drop
Of a beat, that swells gently into passionate frenzy
Exploring the vulnerability of my frustrations in living
The dance in honor of you and me, oh yes, we the living dead

It’s in the drop
Of one dollar that the world brands as my daily poverty
Yet in my world, my richness is like mood swings
Undulating between 60 and 80 shillings
60’s my mum’s generation; 80’s my generation

It’s in the drop
The beginning of the pool, the echo, the frenzy,
The unlimited potential to redefine universal perspective
Poverty is only the lack of ideas