Where are the passionate men?
Who stood here aeons ago stern
Neither frustrated by hunger nor pain
Where are they? After all these years of
strain
Where are the young maidens who us to
play here?
And adore the young men working in the
street
Who made the street litter with joy to
play
What changed? As we groaned the years of
gray
Where are the children who use to dance?
And fill the streets with laughter as
they prance
Probably a new dance to be shown to the
old with a stance
Why have these bitter wars made children
to grow old in elegance?
Where are all the flowers that grew on
our streets?
Now are used as vegetables to feed!
The frail and hungry, who can't stand on
their feet!
Standing where these men once stood at
ease
How soon does history repeat its tricks
Amongst us...here we are debating its
stink
Battle fields and ethnic purging
shouldn't we think?
How our children use to plat there on
that brink
Look at those abandoned fields
All rich in ''Green Gold'' now wasted
with no yields
Tradition was abandoned to civilization
to shield
''dark crude'' with nothing to shield
this hatred, so they bleed
I remember the youths used to be here
debating for change
Now only few are here, others are
brainwashed to avenge
Innocent bystanders, who can't even revenge
Others are building their cities, others
are fighting to quench
I know the passionate mothers who stood
for their children
Would you allow this war to bury these
treasure of brethrens?
Or dissolve the country you bore? In
excruciating migraine?
Nigeria is our children...lets stand up
and protect our fallen brethren!
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