1
I count as much as Kunta Kinte,
and, being like Kunta Kinte, I sing.
I count as much as Kunta Kinte,
and, being like Kunta Kinte, I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
I count how many links separate me
from the feet of those in front of me, guiding me;
you see, they are as many as those binding me
to the same number of feet following me.
Recognising the mathematical connection,
I calibrate the right step in a pragmatical way,
slower at first, then I catch up,
fast, I speed up,
I assess the physical and rhythmic constraint,
equidistant from the minimum and maximum,
hub and transit place,
through the flow of common data,
so I free myself.
(I count as much as Kunta Kinte,
and, being like Kunta Kinte, I sing.)
I count how many steps are repeating
and how much bass propagates below,
you see, they are as many as you can hear,
just by remembering them, their number has increased.
Recognising the fact as epic,
I calibrate the gesture clinically,
slower at first, then I catch up,
first there is wind, then they arrive.
And I’m the first one, and I’m the last one.
And I’m the first one, and I’m the last one.
It’s a typical fact of a cyclic game.
It’s a mantra-like rhythm, so:
words upon words, upon millions of words,
like cells, they bump into one another and they multiply.
I count as much as Kunta Kinte,
and, being like Kunta Kinte, I sing.
I count as much as Kunta Kinte,
and, being like Kunta Kinte, I sing.
I count as much as Kunta Kinte,
and, being like Kunta Kinte, I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
The only political miracle that has been successful during this century,
was getting the slaves to talk to one another,
to resemble one another,
because that was expedient to the single, free market.
However, this way it happens that the slaves get to know one another,
get to recognize themselves;
and then, maybe, by recognizing themselves,
it happens that the slaves organize,
and if they count themselves, then they win.
Chains of chains, upon chains of millions of chains,
like wires of an extremely long phone,
like a lattice full of traffic
and no need whatsoever for traffic lights.
On my back, a number was tattooed.
My chain is like a phone wire.
My conviction is that if I stop they’ll kill me.
My luck is that I’m walking in circles.
And I’m the first one, and I’m the last one.
And I’m the first one, and I’m the last one.
It’s a typical fact of a cyclic game.
It’s a mantra-like rhythm, so:
words upon words, upon millions of words,
like cells, they bump into one another and they multiply.
I count as much as Kunta Kinte,
and, being like Kunta Kinte, I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
(I count as much as) I count as much as (Kunta Kinte) Kunta Kinte,
(and, being like Kunta Kinte) I sing.
1. Kunta Kinte is the protagonist of the novel Roots, which narrates the story of an African slave brought to America.