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Oh, Africa,
When shall these wounds heal?
When shall our fields be evergreen?
Must we go through this wilderness of pain?
Fallen heroes lament the downfall of our once beautiful city.

Sore eyes from wailing wells,
This city, where once were freeborn!
Come, thou emissary of fate,
Have you not perceived the terror and destruction herein?
Smoothen my soul with your hope-filled jars,
Nor your sleeping slumbering fantasies.

They come with a cupful of pinned promises
Singing songs of salvation to our weary ears
With these drowning, drooling dreams
And ripping ripened realms
They came with bells of dismembered peace
To shred the rope of our unison into pieces

Tell me,
Is this the polished goodwill
That stood like a flag at the gates of the city?
They promised royal garments,
Here we are, clothed in sackcloth.
Severed is the cord that held together, our great city.

under the sheets

Tell me,
When shall these tears cease?
When shall these sufferings end?

Tell oma,
Our maidens gloat in pain
Enslow with a fractured future

Tell Adaobi,
We no longer want disguised saviours,
All we want is a redeemer!
Who shall redeem us?
Who shall stand in the gap?
Who shall bail us out in this prison?

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