Counting Machine Aren’t we all pieces of the remnants of a star A mix and match of cosmic dust, is what we are Yet we’re tick, boxed and squared And our race is compared (But) I am a human being I’m not a coloured bean To stand outside, with the “other” kinds To be added to your counting machine Counting Machine The oldest bones of Africa are still afoot It’s said the roots of them are still a part of us Yet we’re tick, boxed and squared And our race is compared (But) I am a human being I’m not a coloured bean To stand outside, with the “other” kinds To be added to your counting machine Counting Machine Quota’s and statistics, are unfair and unrealistic They don’t reflect our humanity They just expose hypocrisy, hypocrisy We have our differences and still we’re all the same A paradox of humankind that’s unexplained Yet we’re tick, boxed and squared And our race is compared (But) I am a human being I’m not a coloured bean To stand outside, with the “other” kinds To be added to your counting machine Counting Machine (x2) © 2006 Angela C. Wilson
