This land is burdened with so much dead inspirations, but who thought it is our choice to live on the street And serve disregard mortals In the sense that we are ambitionless
The only song that sings us without melodies, can be heard when a child falls with her pan dancing on the road I saw a woman carrying the consumption of today with the levy of the nation on her head
Where her tiredness served wines On the table of men who never respect her struggle, In their strive their fed Oh so schools were also built with taxpayers money, then what can we gain when these classrooms are expensive to our children, who want to be literate like your son’s whose parents never toiled Hm Hm Hm Into someone’s pocket this whole sweat runs to and turn gold
Where the threat of a vehicle which loses break slays lives down That is the end of the road The only person who can step up bold Is that political man who lured us with our vote
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Till today he hasn’t stepped his toes in our home even to remember us with those countless toast Imagine when the sun is smiling We find our strength to work Not to build any big dream But to fight the war of the tummy And be able to pay for your glory
The hunger of our children is steamed And when night decide to awake sunset in the evening, the spine of the Kayayoo has no mat to rest on Everything can be done to change this gory world full of attention to the rich and leave the vision of the poor
It looks blunt but let sharpens it. Let them hear our stories on the street Because the life of the Kayayoo could’ve been you and him Hear their voice and fight their tears
Atachie Richard Agbalenhrola
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