This is the final track on The Way of Rasta (A Healing Song).

People think it's the money we seek
It's the honey in the love that strengthens the weak
I leave the rum alone plant herb
True to family and home trod the way to Zion
After you left your physical form
Takes a May Pen lion to find laughter
Through mystical storms I'm not crying
The lessons Grandma taught keep me death‑defying
Though your lips never say you hail the King of kings
The light in your eyes when I speak of H.I.M.
Is louder than words I observe
Thoughts can be swords pointed fingers guns
And the government thinks that the population is blind and dumb
Mama say from Clarendon to Portland
City parish to far-out state
Black is a field marshal attack to burn hate
Afrika's got a date with modern destiny don't be late
Fate won't wait and they say he drives the hearse
If you compromise now what happens
When worse comes to worse, oh, look, look, look...