Is it that I am just interesting to you?
Or would it happen to be my colour
That is turning your eyes my way
I am different you know, I’m black
Would you like to speak to me or do you find that impossible
Considering what it means to you to be seen doing so
I’ve always walked this land you know, yes right here
My family lived in this supermarket mall
When it was a dirt place for one thousand years at least
And the wind whistled like your security alarms
And the smell of the food court was our shellfish in coals
The spruikers remind me of a corroboree
Except my elders were selling the dreamtime
And we danced like beautiful animals
Will you walk past me again and have another think
About my heritage
Do not hate me because I am black or because I am in your shopping centre
Love me because I am as proud as can be that I still walk with my ancestors
On my land

Kata Tjuta Uluru,
Blue to glowing red,
Depending on the time of day,
Photographers set up bed.

Sir Henry gave his name,
To a monolith so grand,
Finally the Aboriginals,
Can reclaim their land.

Piranypa cannot be privy,
The Anangu will say,
Sacred aboriginal dreamtime,
Saving Uluru today.

Vicissitudes of life,
The spirit it descended,
Uluru and Aboriginal life,
Finally extended.

Gondwanaland I was there,
My footprints etched in time,
Blackman, happy man,
A blissful life in rhyme.

Simple life, hunter’s life,
Wide brown land ahead,
Any direction I could go,
No white man, happy bed.

Food and water a plenty,
All Eco systems alive,
Everyone a gatherer,
At the early age of five,

Coroboree tribal life,
Much better than today,
Living on the bottle.
That white man passed my way.

Unto this king of people
Life’s not a modern rhyme
Ancient Culture be thy real love
Govern’d potency Dreamtime

Jiva or Guruwari seed power
Ever boding dreaming
Thy sacredness enshrined
A’fore the white man scheming

Tis nobler do not teach the teacher
Thou canst not be Wandjina
Assimilation doubt thou spirits
What says a horrible scar

To thine Baiame thoust be true
Hath not your mystery bonded
An aboriginal nation
On whitemans untimely stage secondered

Perfect Ceremony, Coroboree,
Beloved culture, Aborigine,
In Gondwana, land of the free,
Back then it used to be.

Perfect harmony, with the land,
Beloved walkabout, oh so grand,
Still Gondwana, desert sand,
Nomadic pleasure, nothing planned.

Perfect tribes, Elder led,
Beloved hunters, families fed,
In Gondwana, lack of dread,
Absent white man, happy bed.

Perfect life, all alone,
Beloved silence, free to roam,
Still Gondwana, lovely home,
Any troubles point the bone.

Perfect landing, white man boat,
Beloved sailor, history wrote,
In Gondwana, they did gloat,
As said, history wrote.