From The Choking Vines Of National Greed

Our land is green, yet tainted with weeds,
A garden overrun with selfish deeds.
From roots of promise, greed takes its hold,
Turning dreams to ashes, hearts to cold.
The harvest once meant for the nation's need,
Now lines the coffers of insatiable greed.

We light no lamps, the grid lies bare,
Its pulse falters in the poisoned air.
I paid your passage, bought your reign,
Anointed the crown to shield my gain.
While voices cry beneath the strain,
My triumph echoes through their pain.

Power flows not to heal or feed,
But to serve the thirst of unchecked greed.
Promises, like clouds, drift and fade,
Shadows linger where hope was laid.
Yet as "E dey pain them," my laughter grows,
A bitter chorus, the nation knows.

The soil bleeds wealth, yet it seeds despair,
As riches climb, the poor breathe thin air.
What binds the land once strong and free
Is now the chain of hypocrisy.
The anthem rings of truth betrayed,
In every verse, the heart decayed.

Still, the winds of change whisper near,
A storm to cleanse, a voice to hear.
For even empires built on lies,
Will crumble beneath awakened cries.
The land, though green, yearns to be freed,
From the choking vines of national greed.