Hopes were shot high,
By the arrows of prattle words
Echoes of the promise-land filled the air;
Choking all atoms of doubts in the heart of all
Near that victorious cry,
Stood our laughter of defeat;
For our independence unleashed,
Irrepressible dependency
Stuck in the mud of paltry gain
We lingee on this same old gibberish
As blind minds lead feeble hearts,
We stagger and scuffle through this slippery aisle
Stripped of her retrospective script,
We pace about in this desert of falsehood
Like sheep in heaps of obfuscation,
Engulfed in a nightmare whose morning is held
Alas! Let sleeping pens wake
Shaking off the dust of ignorance
Husking the mask of corruption
Building our broken bridges,
With words of golden cement
Fervidly liberating our own
From the claws of myopia
Let dormant ink flow
For the rate of blood flow (in our land) grows
Staining the minds of our people with colours of wrath;
As our peace lays suffocated by the hands of greed
Let us fight
For so long have the might of our peb remained inertia
Let us wrestle,
Not with pistol but with weapons of salted words
Let us battle;
Not with swords but with words of coal;
Melting through the frozen hearts of men.
#fightingthewarsthatbringpeace
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