I will never tell you
How the beggars will come to you
With their heads facing downwards
Like the repentant prodigal
One hand behind their backs
The other stretched out
Begging for our alms-thumb prints
Like the almajire
I will never describe it to you
Their diastemic deceitful smiles
Which melt anger
And make stones weep emotionally
The devil himself, fears these looters
And weeps for those who fall for these termites tricks
They are the iguns hovering above the national moi-moi
Their flowing agbada hold vaults for looting
And pack the curses of the mekunus and talakawas
I will not tell you
How thelooterswill get back into power
How some will vote blindly
Injected by tribalism and religious bias
It is true that the deceived ones fight for tribe,
Religion and other petty issues
But these instigators believe in only 1 language
1 religion, 1 tribe and 1 ideology
They are the monipawadiciters
They will be back on top soon
And after eating the ebocalled nasional kek
The down-trodden will be forgotten
But surely after 4 years of hibernation
The true almajires will be back at your door
UNREPENTANT as usual.
