Doom Days Drum
Blood and war on the hill
The centre is shattered
And everyman for himself

No one cares for cure
The Excellency are pretenders
The honours are Judas
And justice

Expensive for the poor
Affordable for the rich
The Beautiful ones are Jailed
The Mafias get bailed

The Prince eats the grass
The Servants eat the Cake
The Doctors can’t diagnose
The hospital is over stretched

Tears and sorrow
At every home and street
Hope and fear
Hang on every tongue

If you ask for justice Like khadir Ahmed
Your citizenship is question
If you sing praise like Keyamo
You are the son of the soil

Dare not speak to power
That their song has no rhythm
That their Drum as no pattern
Or Jail is your home

Ask Adeyanju Ask Anikulapo

Who will see our tears
And dry our rivers of sorrow
Those who care can not see
Those with sight care not

To heaven we all look up for freedom
But heaven has no answer
In our Palm lies freedom
Freedom comes via the cross

Let all lace their booth
And match to the field
Death or Freedom
Must be our pledge

Sit Smile and Suffer
Not our song
Blood or peace
Our Nation must be healed