We walk slowly through the falling purple jacarandas,
the trees turn bald.
Father is staring at a picture of old Botha riding on his horse.
He's wondering if blood was worth so much.
He attaches so many years to the name of a place
So many years we now need to let go of.
---Chorus---
Pretoria, you have always been there,
because you lie in my safe, I call you my home.
I will never forget your name.
Pretoria, what if my child asks me,
is the name then so bad, so bitter and evil,
why are you throwing it away?
Humbly we stand at uncle Paul's plain
and feel small. God has saved us,
but tears are slowly running through my mother's questions
and she wonders, weren't we worth anything then?
She attaches so many years to the name of a place
So many years we now need to let go of.
---Chorus---
And I know that the country has to exist together,
but it causes pain to so many people
if all those old names disappear.
Pretoria, Pretoria, I will never forget your name!