A land that feed me and nurtured me,
A city that saw me grow under the sun,
Water defied science and was odor-full,
The land is grey, grouse with a tint of green,
Bitter is kolanut but yet medicinal for Elders,
Oil is red but turns into white to fry fish,
My fathers told me to see the moon,
Mothers washed me every night before sleep,
The African wind blew into my face...
...and i can feel the new breath in the air;
My land is barren and my heart cries,
An iron needs to bend for my iron soon,
For my will is made and my resolve is set,
My word is not dead, my people are set,
Change is not me but change is us,
One wills and all supports...
...that is the wind of change blowing non-stop;
My land is barren but had been tilled before,
It produced neither greed nor green gutter,
Microbes that germinate and wipe all good,
Agents of destruction that promote pain,
And Now...
...history tags a slow lead to the north and yarns;
My land is barren but not for long,
We wait not in vain for my elders to wake,
My generation is ready to take the bold step,
Our hoes and cutlass is ready for the cut,
Our soul made up for the die is cast,
Our kings now sing to the king of kings,
As we take a hold on the waking slaves...
...slaves that is now becoming Masters;
My land was barren but that is history,
We have begged for food but that has stopped,
I stand tall even though am short,
A ruler taller for i stand with hope...
...hope that comes alive with God on our side.
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