The oppressed,
Have taken up arms;
Against the oppressors,
For their opposing views;
Against political vendetta,
As a result of their overstay in power with a scarce development;
And too much spending and taxation,
Taxing their citizens;
Against their political rights,
Muting their mouths;
And pricing them against their scruples,
Killing them with promises;
And ignoring their wounds,
Making them tools to weed opposition parties;
In their political farms,
Using them to grow crops of poverty and tribalism;
Making the African soil barren,
With a lot of mourning and burials;
Vandalism and killings,
Sorrows and regrets,
For weeding their farms with tools of humiliation;
Financing their farms and owing the crops,
Like Musa and Pharaoh.
We've watched you on your thrones
Till the Whiteman came to your land,
You died in pits;
Why not on your golden beds?
You triggered us with bullets of history,
To be remembered for your bravery;
Brave indeed but cowardice,
If not for the sake of humanity;
Some of you don’t even deserve a proper burial.
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