my Ritme.

ek loer oor my skouer

ek word elke dag ouer

ek loer oor my skouer

alles word net kouer

toe ek deur die karro gery het, oppad na nêrens

het ek op my rug gaan lê, in die bossiesgras.

en die ritme van die son raakgesien.

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