See my father’s land
Shining and greenish
like the palm tree planted
Yes, palm tree beside the river
No other, but river in Mississippi
When it dries not…
Day by day flourish In goldic water
My father’s land
Why hath tho refuse us your harvest
Why hath tho withdrew the joy of nature?
Why won’t I?
Why should I give my precious harvest?
To you pagan of believe!
When my sons you have divided
Irrigating me with cold-hot blood
Instead of calm drop from above
The ‘oblical’ cord I bounded you with
Who’s the breaker ?
All, turns it to a tattered womb ?
In making, I made no race
No colour…but a single voice
Deep in your heart, thou gives thought of evil
We have talked
Yes! To our medulla oblongata
In yielding our souls are ready for peace
Yesterday it was crash
Tomorrow, we knew not the coming…
Our father, what should be our doing?
Cos this darken harvest
Is like a serpent in the garden…
Oh yee nation,arise!
Who’s the nation
Observe the termites
In their unity and ‘busy-iness’
Nations they’re building
If the serpents could sojourn
Who’s son of man to bruise their heads?
These are my requests
If only your blind could see
If only your deaf could hear