We all met at the gate,
We were welcomed with rains of bullets,
Like Vikings at Valhalla's grave;
We seek libration for those in jail,
We wants to be freed from nepotism.
We needed bail for those with chains in jail.
Who's only offenses;
Was delivering a protest mail.
Our fallen compatriots killed by our own brothers?
Who's only duties is to protect us?
That beautiful blissful role they failed.
Our ghosts entered Paradise in tears;
For those we love and lost at Lekki tollgate.
Rubbed by old monsters in democracy,
Especially us in demonstration against frustration.
Those who enslaved our parents in early eighties,
Are still enslaving us and our unborn children.
We thought old age may have solutions to our problems.
A man's choice is his wit.
Our collective choice during election is now our doom.
We have reordained our oppressor;
Now doom because of our selfish benefits.
Oh, if only the universe can be merciful to us,
And make our oppressor become ghost.
It is our humble cry of sorrow and grief.
It is our pitiful lamentation against our libration.
We can no longer continue to cry;
No more manipulated by old fools.
We may all die one day.
Some will be killed by war,
Others by frustration,
Some of us may die as revolutionaries.
When the time is come still,
I shall arise still,
We all must be ready to move.
Alútá Continuer...
Victoria àsátá
® Sir Prince Ojoka
©princeojok
P