The man called coward
The man called coward
His rocky farm-dry palms
Beat the crocodile-skin drums for oppressor to dance,
He croaky voice sings the songs
Of his predator's merry
At the sight of his oppressor,
His fury dies in the middle of a false smile
But yet,
His courage for confrontation
Has long lost his way
While his predator catches the wide smile of dawn
From Lebanon,
With a skull on the soft-landing
Of succulent boobs,
This prey called coward rises
In a domestic bicker with his intestines
Yet,
The media beast has branded him
The sweetest feet on the tongue of Earth-
This coward called the Nigerian people.
His rocky farm-dry palms
Beat the crocodile-skin drums for oppressor to dance,
He croaky voice sings the songs
Of his predator's merry
At the sight of his oppressor,
His fury dies in the middle of a false smile
But yet,
His courage for confrontation
Has long lost his way
While his predator catches the wide smile of dawn
From Lebanon,
With a skull on the soft-landing
Of succulent boobs,
This prey called coward rises
In a domestic bicker with his intestines
Yet,
The media beast has branded him
The sweetest feet on the tongue of Earth-
This coward called the Nigerian people.
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