I am still fighting for my black friends
My good friends

Those dark skinned
You call Abos
Those you call hopeless

Useless
And drainers of the public purse

Those you see in the dole queue
Those you see constantly drunk
Those you see filling our jails
Those who cannot get a job

In a white place stolen
By you
Only ever designed for whites

Turn back the clock and ask yourself
What have you done to help my black friend?
In two hundred years

Where did you include him in your plans?
When did you pay him for his land?
When did you thank him for giving us his children?

The Stolen Generation

When did you thank him for the liberties?
You took with his women?
All the blacks you enslaved on sugar and flower rations

And the real injustice is
The exclusion of laws to bring those white bastards to justice