My fatherland
Blessed with milk and honey
Enslaved by the seven apostles
Cabals of the luciferian chambers
Our leaders have milked us dry.

Youths patient for decades
They struggle to eke out a living
Struggling and hustling,
Have become a norm.

Our leaders are looters
They divide and rule us
Trickishly they plant seeds of discord
Religious acrimony bites hard
Communal clashes mocks at us.

Who will redeem us?
Our hope roasted for decades
The poor masses
Eat from hand to mouth,
While their sons and daughters
Dine and wine in strange lands.

Youth they say,
Are the leaders of tomorrow
And the tomorrow will never come
During electioneering campaigns
We sing and dance their praises.

We sale our votes
For a pot of porridge
Here we are, biting our lips
in hunger and starvation,
Our stomachs cry.

Their campaign promises
are long forgotten,
Their pledges are documented papers
Never written in their hearts.

When the masses weep
Nothing to console them,
Our education is in shamble
Agriculture at the mercy of peasant farmers.

Who did this to us?
Our electricity sold
To greedy hearts
Our refineries,
An abandoned projects.

The youths are penitent
We are the architects of our woes
We voted the grey hairs,
How do we rewrite our wrongs?
Is it too late?

No, it isn’t
All we need is unity and oneness
To reawaken the poisoned hearts,
Political sanitization and sensitization
Rekindles and rejuvenates the weaklings.

We must be resolute
In our revolutionary journey,
Though there is a Judas amongst us
But then, there is hope,
At the end of the tunnel.