Life is unbearable in this side of Sahara, the sun is still hot but our taps have run dry,
We are living in a cursed land where you can sleep a baron and wake up a pauper the next day,
Maybe the blood that we spilled in 2007, the innocent lives that we brutally exterminated has recurred to haunt us!
Infact living in my country under this regime should be included in the Guinness world of records, it’s not for the faint-hearted!
Be silent, the king is passing! Mute your siren, the black despot is listening!
Behold, his loyal gun men are all over the streets, determined to open fire,
The lakeside barbarian stings like a full grown python, dare him not,
He’s drunk in power, he’s following the routes of Muammar Gaddafiof Libya and his excellency Idi Amin Dada,
Why have you decided to wear a designer suit on top of your dirty pants? And yet you haven’t taken shower… why Francis?
Ever complaining of a persistent stomach ache yet you don’t cleanse your cup when it’s tea time!
This is like inserting your hands into the mouth of a crocodile and expecting it back as it was,
No matter how influential you are son, you will never teach an old baboon new tricks on how to survive in a jungle!…
There’s a nation that paints it’s outermost covering with a bright colour, showcasing the white edges but burying the dull surface under the red carpet,
A state of narcissistic individuals who prey on the muscles of the destitute, a desperate newspaper vendor,
Sweeping the hard-earned coins of a shoe shiner into their overflowing storehouses,
A country that knows not the law of empathy, draining away the bowls of a street beggar! And still walks away as if nothing happened!?
There’s a powerful order from the high table of the Napoleon,
That decries against leaving your house at nightfall,
Effective until the streets are safe again for human consumption,
The slogans are quite convincing for anyone to stay indoors,
Unless you’re prepared to face the wrath of the state castigator,