Kampala

Kampala, city I know as mine, a thought so clear of a town that I know as my sho be be doa day down Ggggaaba road by Lake Victoria's fishing hall. While tilapia smoke left soot on my cheeks. Where the way home from Bukasa could become a crime, or a loving hug hidden behind church which is behind Muyenga's water tanks. Those happy years that I remember like yesterday - Kampala`s morning birds were malayas from Kabalagala's nightclubs, beautiful women from Lira, Mbrara and Jinja ja ja ja oh oh oh yeeaah that are people who are used to worse times sho be do doa day if streets are gray are they proud like few in Kampala that I know as my oooh oh yeah the soda of the tones lives in every ghetto house, music language that we all understand sho be do do doa day roots I found there, longing for home from the day I left oh, my God both song and smile come from Kampala ooohh yeah people live their ghetto life, the tree behind Lovely lodge bears its bud, hearts have hidden a hope that peace, better times, because what's done is done and it can never be hidden away. The which are lost dreams it's lost forever sho be do do do doa day only pray for miracle to happen in Kampala that I know as mine - Kinachotokea happens na kile chilochinda. Naweza tu kuiombea Kampala, Napenda oh oh yeah