Where things are in order
Our people live in peace
But when things are in disorder
The people’s peace turns to pieces.
I never knew what they call ransom
But I know Ransom Kuti
Just for his musical stardom
Before death makes him quit.
I never knew
When the herdsmen’s stick turns bullet
It may be new
Just to scare farmers plant their millet
The farmland turns battlefield
Just to fight against terrorism
For cadaver not to be filled
To make not farmlands centre of tourism
He has nothing to say
His citizens to defend themselves
In the presence of bullets that stray
Just for the defence of ourselves.
When there’s pandemonium
In the nation of humdrum
There will be a state of anarchy
Not like people in their hierarchy
But in the territory of a giant of Africa
Where insecurity is the order of the day
Where there exist fracas
The leader turns to a jay.
If a leader can’t defend his/her people
The people will opt for self-defence
But depriving defence in pupils
Where no fence is built for defence.
It’s high time
We went back to our religions
If we don’t want to commit a crime
In our respective sympatric regions.