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Oh you rotting nation,
They won’t stop praising you,
With figments of your greatness
We don’t know what to believe, we can’t say they are lying

Because other leaves breed your seed,
We remain steady so you won’t drain our blood.

They keep telling us stories of your greatness
A phenomenon we are yet to experience
Where is the much famed Africa’s giant?
We were born here,

And yet your greatness seems Faraway.

Like melons on a tray,
Fighting for a safe space,

Wriggling and pushing others to the edge,
Quiver and anxious after every toss,
Alas, our faith lies on the bearer of the tray,
We won’t judge the bearer
All we want is a tray to lie on.

We are at the mercy of our leaders
All that glitters surely reflects a source of light
Our forefathers bled for our greatness
Yet our rulers revel in corruption
They enjoy watching us wallow in suffering.

Because they act blind,
We are deaf as well,
The managing load is not only ours to push,
The dirty cloth is for all of us to wash,
For a general death does not kill a soul,
Tell them we did not come with our eyes,
So we can not tell, if the Nation is already sinking.

Oh yeah, we are moments away from drowning

In our self incured flood
They’ve forgotten life’s not eternal
For they’ll never stop looting
And the citizens, they won’t stop persecuting.

By Akinwole John and Yusuf Muyibat

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