He kept a clear head
His manifesto no red tapes
A clear line of action for the youth
His pride.....The man from the roots
Soon the commercials came
The phantom shenanigans games
He swore no evil by name
This is politics! Don't be lame!!!!!
The camera and the crowd showed him fame
The game and men he administered blame
This isn't the promise at the helm
This is politics everyone can't be helped
Soon he forgot the men who sowed
Under the harsh sun....The cold he reaped
The tattered and wretched he quipped
Should wait he must be very quick
When they gathered to speak the mongering
The celebration celebrated their mourning
Their mornings bellowed a thousand moaning
The golden street he boasted is snoring
Reeking of pity and disgust
While his one room office has a thousand flowers
Ointments and Americanised odour eaters
While our pillow is a gutter full of bloody heaters
His head is clear again
Our thumbs are not in pains
Vote we must!
Vote we will!
We need to share this mosquitoes
we need to share your plans
Your clear head
For every vote we give!
Is a better Nigeria
Vote not fight!
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