discipline

DON’T WALK AWAY FROM THE PATH

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DON‘T WALK AWAY FROM THE PATH

When I was young and I still had a choice
I woke one day and heard a woman’s voice (and she said)
My son don’t walk away from the path
Courageously face all that it hath (because it’s)
Easy to walk away from the right path (but then)
It’s never easy finding your way back
Don’t walk away, son…….

Years passed and I became a man
I did away with all my childish plans
I saw the world the way it really was
But I was too weak to fight off its paws
And the woman’s words went flat (in my mind)
And I shut my eyes and walked away from the path
I walked away, Lord…..

Now I am… – –
I am… – –
So… – –
So… ….. hee ha!

Now since that time I’ve been living along the ways of men
In all that time I haven’t made one single friend
I’ve lost the peace of mind that I used to know
I’ve gained the world but what happened to my little soul (little soul….)

(instr.)

My son don’t walk away from the path
Courageously face all that it hath (because it’s)
Easy to walk away from the right track (but then)
It’s never easy way finding your way back
It’s easy to lose the track
It’s never easy finding your way back (I say)
It’s never easy finding your way back (ohh)
It’s never easy finding…
It’s never easy finding hey….
Your…… way back…
And I’m so… lonely.

Music/Words: Che Chidi Chukwumerije

THE NOISY CHILD

~ Che ~ 4 Comments

I walk the streets, the broken streets. I encounter people, broken people. I see the materialisation of broken dreams – and suddenly I understand a-deeper, that a child was silenced at dawn. Ssshh! Keepquiet! Shutup! Don’ttalk! Can’t you see that adults are talking! Stopthat! Standthere! Standstill! Obey before you complain! You’re just a child! You’re still a child! DO as you’re told! You will understand only when you’ve grown… – But by the time they grow, poor children, they’ve forgotten whatever it was they once wanted to say or what once they wanted to know… – – – I walk the streets, the broken streets. I encounter adults, broken adults… noisy… empty… silent… silenced. I see the forgotten memory of the broken dreams blowing in the evening wind under a sad sun. And I understand once again, that once upon a crucial early time, a child was told to be still… stillborn.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.