Beaten, bruised, aches
Torments, a neglected land
The palm tries to ask the hand
For answers, answers riding on waves
The heart keeps invoking
Invoking the race of the heart
For love that was fast
Cordiality which embodies our past
You said the in-betweeness was my act
Motoro, does it make breaking me your right?
Did I not hear, that Abeni
Whose lips flame disaster in the manner
Of a slumbering desiccated brain
Told you I bought some Ole from Akanni
To pay with my hole
When the night consumes all role
Motoro, does it make breaking me your right?
I waited at heart’s post
Empty,
Stuck within a dizzying circle
For an answer promised to come
The messiah that should minister to our miserly love
The truth could hurt
The truth could change
It could be the night of one’s pain
It could be the morning of one’s joy
Until you said goodbye for it was long I told you,
I love you.
